


The High Cost of Perfection

by DaeMEon



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Humiliation, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Non-Consensual Haircuts, Rape/Non-con Elements, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaeMEon/pseuds/DaeMEon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Suicide Mission, a jealous Liara blackmails Miranda Lawson into breaking up with Shepard, with far-reaching consequences.</p><p>Written for a prompt on the kmeme, inspired by a picture.</p><p>Dark themes, ahoy. It got out of hand really fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break Up

**Author's Note:**

> If I could include a cover, I would choose one of these:  
> http://s11.postimg.org/ylnobla3n/highcost004.jpg  
> http://s14.postimg.org/mlquwpn4h/perfection06.jpg
> 
> A HUGE thank you to the original poster, who was kind enough to make these.  
> It means a lot to me that they took the effort to create these lovely images.

“So this is it? Really?” Shepard said in a flat tone, coming to a conclusion that he was skeptical about. There was no emotion in his voice, only his gestures spoke of defeat.  
“Yes,” Miranda said firmly. As firmly as she could, keeping it short, so her voice would not quiver. She kept her expression ice cold, just as it was expected of her. As everybody expected of her.  
Shepard stared at the floor, elbows resting on his knees as he sat on the couch in Miranda’s quarters. He was way past dumbfounded.  
“Miranda,” he tried again, that same reasoning voice that talked down Saren, that convinced asari, krogan, salarian, everybody in the whole goddamn galaxy to see things his way. And it was not working on Miranda Lawson. “There must be something else. You’re smart. And this… this is…” he shook his head, his earlier frustration returning. “It’s just stupid.”

Miranda shrugged. She was screaming inside. She had been screaming, sobbing, begging and arguing in her mind, agreeing with everything Shepard said and wanted to confess that these were all lies. Not the good kind of lies. She could come up with those, although she was reluctant to use them with Shepard. He had the habit of seeing through it, not by her tells - she had none - but simply with sheer logic and intuition.

She had to weave the worst kind of lie, the one meant to be reprehensible, to make someone loathe the other.  
“It is what it is, Shepard. We are even. Both of us got what we needed–”  
“I didn’t!” Shepard hissed, anger born of frustration boiling beneath the surface. “And I thought you needed more, too.”  
“Well, I did not…”  
Shepard lifted a hand to shut her up and shook his head.  
“Don’t give me this bullshit, Miranda. I know you. At least, I _thought_ I knew you... Seriously? An itch to scratch?! That’s the best you could come up with? Where are we? In high school?!”  
Miranda pressed her lips thin, hiding her pain behind a frown, to stop the tears. _You have no idea!_ she screamed in her mind. 

She could have come up with something so much better and plausible, that would make this less painful, at least for Shepard, and Miranda could hope that one day, after this is all over, she could fix it. But that was the problem: She _had to_ make it painful. She _had to_ hurt the only man in the whole universe, whose opinion was important to her. She could deal with the hatred, the disdain and the jealousy of the crew. She just couldn’t deal with this.

It could have been easy: “We cannot be together. You have to get back to the Alliance and I can’t. You have a galaxy to save and you don’t need the stigma of a Cerberus agent. They wouldn’t let us be together anyway. I’m letting you go, because I can’t follow you where you need to go. Besides, I can’t give you children…” She bit the inside of her cheek to chase the thought away and return to the unavoidable tension in the room.

“What do you want me to say?” she croaked.  
Shepard scoffed.  
“I don’t believe this!” he lifted a hand to rub his palm across his short stubble of a hair, a gesture of frustration she knew so well. “I don’t know, Miranda. Something less… childish. Something that makes sense.”  
He looked up at her from where he sat, Miranda leaning against her desk, standing straight, arms folded across her chest. Quite a defensive posture, but she had to hide her trembling hands somehow.  
“Look me in the eye, Miranda and say that you don’t love me any more. That this was just a heat of the moment thing. A fucking stress relief. Say it to my eyes and mean it.”

Miranda kept quiet. She really hoped it would not come to this. She threw everything in the book at him, avoiding the self-sacrificing clichés, the merciful lies that would have worked on him. She went through her playbook using all the stuff that worked on many men and even women she had to manipulate during her time with Cerberus.

The only problem was, that Shepard read people too damn well. To his credit, he invested a lot of time to get to know Miranda, to melt the ice, to get a human moment from her. And she melted all right, talking about her life, her father, her sister and he helped her getting Oriana to safety. He knew her too well already to know that after all that time, even their little romp on the engineering deck was more than simple stress relief. He knew she opened up too much for it to be a one night stand.

And here she was, crashing it into the ground. She wanted to die.  
“Well?” Shepard asked, like an annoyed teacher asking the unprepared student. Miranda shuddered.  
“It was a one night stand, John. It meant nothing more. I don’t share your feelings.”  
Shepard glared up at her with an expressionless face but she could very well see it in his eyes that she broke something in him. She pressed her lips thinner and her frown deepened. She could not cry. She can’t break down now. It was almost over.

“Well,” Shepard said quietly, tearing his gaze away. He slowly stood up, stretching his neck and grimacing as he stared right through Miranda. “It seems like I overestimated you, Miranda. I am sorry I did not meet your high standards.” He looked at her, his piercing gaze looking right into her, freezing her in place. It was a stone cold stare, one she could not remember ever seeing on his face.

“Well, I expect you will continue to fulfill your duties as an XO without any problems and this will not affect your performance. You will remain in this position until we complete this last run. After that, when we reach Alliance space, you will leave the ship with all crew not wishing to return to Earth.”  
Miranda nodded silently.  
“I didn’t hear you,” Shepard warned.  
“Yes, commander,” Miranda said, barely above whisper.  
“As you were.” Shepard said, already staring ahead, and left without another word.

Miranda waited until the door closed behind him before slowly sinking to the floor gasping for air soundlessly, all the pent up tension leaving her exhausted, arms and legs trembling. She pulled up her knees and rested her forehead on them, trying to cry, to sob, to gasp, to scream, anything but the silence, but even her voice failed her. She was paralyzed. The tension in her chest was threatening to burst her ribcage open, and she had trouble taking deep breaths.

The communicator’s beep shook her from her trance. She didn’t know how much time had passed. The communicator beeped relentlessly, the caller apparently patient. Miranda knew who it would be and she didn’t want to answer the call, but she had to. If she takes too long to answer or let it ring out, it would just show weakness and it would show how much it hurt her.

She crawled up into her chair, shook her head to brush her hair back, quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes and tapped the receive button. Liara T’soni’s face popped up on her screen and Miranda almost snarled at the image. The asari was smiling cheerfully, eyes flashing in excitement.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Miranda said grudgingly.  
Liara frowned in mock disapproval. “A bit bristly, aren’t we? Cutting right to the chase, no pleasantries… Tsk, tsk.” She shook her head and then smiled warmly. “I heard everything. You did splendidly, Miranda. Did it exactly the way I wanted to. Broke poor John’s heart.” She wiggled a finger at her, a very human gesture, so grotesque from an asari. “You did your part. When you arrive with Feron, come and see me and we’ll finalize our deal. I’ll send you the details later.”  
And with that, she broke the connection.

Miranda Lawson stared at the screen with an empty gaze, feeling utterly powerless and still trying to make sense of it all, reflecting back on the last few days. She didn’t even try to figure out, where she made a mistake, what she did wrong. She could not have expected this. There was nothing that she could have done. It was as simple as that.

The month started so good. After the Collector Base and breaking ties with Cerberus, they were on their own, deciding on their next step, and she felt giddy from just being alive. They survived, they were free, and Shepard was there. They needed each other’s comfort after all this, to _feel_ and _know_ everything will be all right.

The morale was boosted even more, when they took down the Shadow Broker and installed Liara as the new one. It was a great win for everybody. Miranda was genuinely happy for Liara. They had a powerful ally… or so Miranda thought. She kept staring at the blank screen and snorted softly at the memory.

Shepard got called away on a super-secret assignment, at the personal request of Admiral Hackett. Shepard felt obligated to do it, despite Miranda’s misgivings, but off he went to god knows where. The Normandy was docked at Illium, undergoing repairs and replenishing supplies, that kept Miranda blissfully busy and with little time to worry about Shepard. And then came the call from Liara.

Miranda agreed to meet with her, eager to share information and have somebody to talk to. She wasn’t exactly isolated on the Normandy, but there were things she didn’t want to discuss with Kelly or Jacob.  
Liara was all charming, offering wine, showing her around in her luxurious apartment in a classy district of Nos Astra. It was going well. And then just as casually as someone would ask for a small favor, Liara told Miranda to break up with Shepard.

Miranda was dumbfounded, almost spilling the expensive wine on the carpet. She couldn’t believe her ears. Liara went on. It was obvious she prepared well for her monologue, and by god, she was very thorough. She knew _everything_. It was barely a few weeks since she took over the Shadow Broker’s vast network and she was already using it to her full advantage.

At first, Liara listed a couple of sensitive ops Miranda did while working for Cerberus, that would make her look really bad in front of Shepard. Miranda brushed it off, saying that that kind of blackmail wouldn’t work. She would confess them to Shepard and would make him understand those were different times and how much has changed since then. She didn’t tell Liara, but she knew John would need no convincing from her, that he would see it himself anyway. As an N7, he was no stranger to the concept of black ops. 

Besides, Miranda struck back, what was keeping her from telling these to Shepard herself? She should do the dirty work of trying to break them up.

Liara didn’t miss a beat explaining how Shepard was meant to be with her so she could not look bad in his eyes by breaking them up herself. Before Miranda could interject, she started rambling on that ever since they first met on Therum and that first meld on the Normandy she knew that they were perfect for each other. She explained with grand words how that prothean spark the beacon instilled in him was a sign, that she, as the foremost mind in prothean history need to complete him and bring about a new golden age. Miranda wanted to laugh at these fairytale sentiments, but she had to remind herself that she was talking to a being who could live for a thousand years, was already over a hundred years old, and she just inherited the throne of the most powerful information network in the known galaxy.

But then Liara quickly switched to a painfully shallow explanation that given Shepard’s importance and her asari genes, they were the ideal match, and that they would create the strongest dynasty in the Galaxy. She took the opportunity to rub it into Miranda’s face that she knew about her infertility. It was about perfection. For Liara, the perfect life meant being at Shepard’s side and supporting him, making them powerful. In her world, there was no other way to be.

How this became her obsession, Miranda could only guess. At 106 years old, Liara was barely a teenager by asari standards, easily infatuated with hobbies like the protheans, or people representing her dream life. Idolizing Shepard seemed logical in a self-centered world of a teenage girl. It didn’t matter what Shepard wanted, because even if he didn’t see things her way, she would convince him. She loved him and he would love her back and he was smart enough to understand eventually. 

Miranda was incredulous. She knew this type from high school and college, but it was still strange to see it in a 100-year old asari scientist. Granted, she didn’t have too much social life either, just like all the nerdy girls, and that included Miranda, too. Added to the mix was the “I saw him first” syndrome, and Miranda suddenly felt herself like a member of the cheerleader squad who had a crush on the same football player stud that the head cheerleader chose for herself. At this point, she could not contain her laughter any more. She saw the irony in the cheerleader analogy, and Jack would probably get a kick out of it. Miranda Lawson was being out-cheerleadered…

Liara didn’t appreciate the laughter, though. She took it as mockery and she quickly became furious and quickly skipped the rest of her prepared monologue and pulled out her strongest, and frankly, her only real card: Oriana.

Miranda kind of suspected that this was up in the air, but she really hoped Liara would not sink that low. She was wrong. Liara T’soni, scholar and information broker was so infatuated with love that she actually threatened to kill Miranda’s sister if she did not back off. It didn’t surprise Miranda, but it did hurt. Her gradual admiration of the asari’s knowledge and personality completely evaporated, her faith in people in general was crumbling fast. 

Miranda also knew that at that moment she lost the battle and quite possibly she would lose the war, too. Any hope of appealing to Liara’s intellect and empathy was gone. She did one last desperate attempt to convince Liara that this was not the way to earn Shepard’s love, and it would not be the same. It didn’t help. It also didn’t work when Miranda tried to appeal to her vanity, saying that she will always be a replacement, a second choice for Shepard. Oddly enough, Liara was okay with that. She was content with being only a runner-up, a rebound, if it meant his arms around her. In any other circumstance, Miranda would find this bit of information about the asari’s self-esteem and ego interesting, but at that moment it was useless to her.

It only took a couple of months for the power to corrupt Liara. Days and weeks alone with all that data at her fingertips, looking up familiar names, and a glimpse to see, what can she achieve with this information. Sure, at first, it was probably all about fighting the Reapers, but that nagging feeling must have won over, to check out the Normandy crew and see her chance of getting her love back.

Liara was not patient any more and she quickly ended the argument with one little sentence that held every bit of information Miranda needed. “Ask yourself this question, Miranda: Does it worth fighting me over him and risking _everything_ you worked for in the past eighteen years?”  
And Miranda understood. Any attempt at winning Shepard back would put Oriana at risk.

This was the difference between their conflict and your run-of-the-mill high school rivalry: Miranda spent her teenage years between the richest, the most elite students Earth had to offer. Every girl was powerful. Most of them spoiled. But with them, Miranda was on equal ground. She had nothing to lose, the only good thing about her father was the family name and power which made her equal by default and superior to them by intellect. She could handle those girls, and most of the time, she would just let them win the unimportant battles. They were insignificant.

Liara T’soni was different, though. She was the Queen Bitch of queen bitches, she was the head cheerleader who had the most power in the whole world. It would still not be enough to beat Miranda Lawson, but the mere thought of the power at Liara’s fingertips with which she could harm Oriana was staggering. The only victory she could achieve at this moment was to keep Oriana alive, and bide her time and maybe after the Reaper War was over, she would go on the same quest that Liara went on two years ago: to find the Shadow Broker and make her pay for endangering the life of someone she cared about.

So there she was, the Ice Queen Miranda Lawson, staring at a blank screen with a blank face and even tears abandoned her. All that bottled up tension, and the only effect it had was that the strength left her limbs. She was unable to think or move for a long time, before her old reflexes kicked in. She took a deep breath, pulled herself straight and opened her terminal.  
Before she could start typing though, she stopped and looked around, narrowing her eyes. She glared at every nook and cranny of her office, unmoving, like a deer caught in the headlights. Every object was suspicious, every shadow a threat… She shook her head. This was pointless.

In the end she forced herself to stand up, move her limbs and make it to the showers. It took all her willpower to get there. She stood under a rush of steaming hot water until her skin turned pink, hoping that the water would wash away at least some of the pain. It didn’t, of course and she had to stop at one point, before she used up all the water. Besides, she had to pull herself together. It was important to keep up appearances, run the ship as usual and not let the crew feel anything of the tension. They would find out of course, faster than she preferred, so there will be whisperings behind her back. Again.

She stopped by the canteen and stocked up on food and drink, deciding it would be best to spend most of her time in her quarters for the next couple of days. She also took a few things from the ship’s storage before locking herself in her room.  
She more or less stuck to her plan, only emerging to take a shower or to work out when nobody was around, and during the day cycle only when she was called to handle something ship-related, which was scarce now that they managed to fix most of the damage and they were not in a rush.

Loneliness was not exactly new to her. She was alone all her life. In school, where her father forbid her to make friends. In Cerberus she had colleagues, but she wouldn’t call them friends. The Illusive Man kept his distance, Jacob came late and was a welcome distraction, but it never went too deep. She worked alone, even when leading the Lazarus team. She was OK with that, until Shepard woke up and persistently tried to form a real connection with her. And for a little while, for a few months she finally felt like she wasn’t alone. She slowly came to trust and feel… something.

Betrayal was familiar as well. Niket was a disappointment, really. Wilson was… irrelevant. She had no qualms pulling the trigger in both cases. And of course, she betrayed her father when she ran away, and betrayed the man who took her in after that, when she sided with Shepard on the Collector Base. In that light, Liara’s betrayal should not have surprised her.

And yet, the pain, that nagging feeling like something was torn from her chest, that was new. In all her life, she only had a few months of contentment, a little relief, sharing the weight with others. With one particular person. Oh, how blissful it was to share! It wasn’t a long time, really, not compared to the previous decades, but it was enough that the loss of it made her whimper at night, balled up in her bed, clawing at her chest to get rid of the tingling sensation, to get at the cold emptiness. It shouldn’t have been this painful. She could only hope, that it would fade and things would return to the way they were before.

Of course, Kelly came, genuine concern on her face, assuring her that she was there to listen and help. Jacob dropped by, too, baffled at the breakup, giving her the “I thought things were going fine” speech and encouraged her to sort it out with John. Chakwas made an attempt, too under the guise of a medical checkup and tried to convince her into talking with Shepard. In all cases she politely thanked them for their concern, smiling sadly and ensured them that when she was ready to talk, she would. She just needed time now. Even Kasumi dropped by, uninvited of course and in her straightforward way, asked her very personal questions and called all her answers stupid. They had a great talk.

It took them three days to pick up Feron and take him to a nondescript space station orbiting a mining moon, one of the many hideouts of the Shadow Broker. There were only a handful of people who knew the identity of the new Broker, and they wanted to keep it that way. The cover story they came up with was that it was a rescue operation, and freeing Feron was the goal. The drell was treated at Illium and once he was strong enough to return and help Liara run the Broker’s network, Shepard offered him a ride. 

Miranda didn’t sleep much during that time. She worked a lot, stayed busy in her free time and made an effort not to look like a mess. Her first step was to sweep her room for listening devices. The next was to sketch up a plan until she can leave the ship, and what to do after it. She even considered surrendering and going into Alliance custody. She would be powerless, which was probably safe for her. Except Cerberus might send someone to kill her and she wouldn’t be able to protect Oriana. No. She had to disappear.

After giving two years of her life to bringing Shepard back and traveling with him all across the galaxy to save humanity, going on incredible adventures, she felt suffocated on the ship. The tension was building between them and the crew started to give her disapproving looks. Once the best place in the galaxy to be, the Normandy became a trap and she wanted to get off. She almost looked forward to being an intergalactic fugitive, running from three different enemies. This is what it all came down to—

The beep of the communicator jolted her back to reality again. It was Liara calling. They docked at the station a few hours ago, Liara no doubt giving Feron, but mostly Shepard a warm welcome and a small tour, being very attentive. They still had a couple of hours until the Normandy was ready to leave and start the slow trek back to Earth. She had been sitting at her desk for the last hour, dreading this call.

“Hi, Miranda,” Liara smiled warmly, her tone sweet and overly friendly, like a girlfriend making a social call. “I was wondering if you could drop by. We could catch up and talk some shop. Some quality girl time. What do you say?”  
Miranda glared at her disdainfully.  
“Sure, Liara. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”  
“That would be great!”

They ended the call and Miranda sat there for another minute or so fuming, trying to calm down enough so she wouldn’t be trembling with rage when she got up. Eventually she let out a long sigh and stood, flicking on her omnitool, picked up a few things from her desk and made her way to the airlock.

She avoided Shepard and most of the command staff but she still managed to stir up a low murmur among the crew as she passed. EDI provided a daily compilation on the crew’s status, morale and anything she found relevant, which was merciless, but even if the AI knew compassion, it also knew that as the XO, Miranda would have wanted to get the information. She just couldn’t find the strength to read about how Shepard’s foul mood affected things and what people thought about her.

She took her time to get to Liara’s quarters, which took up a third of the space station. She was fiddling with her omnitool and read a datapad on the way, passing through halls and winding corridors. She put her gear down outside Liara’s place at the instructions of the security guards before she was allowed to enter.

The lair was a spacious, elegantly furnished suite, just flashy enough to pass for a mining company CEO’s headquarters. Not too discreet, not too fancy. One wall was just panels of double-layered windows with blast shields, giving a gorgeous view at the gas giant, around which the moon orbited.

Liara stood in front of the window, with her back to Miranda in a very theatrical pose, fashioning a long gown with an open back. She looked back at Miranda over her shoulder and smiled.  
“Miranda!” She motioned at a table next to her with tall glasses and a bottle of expensive wine on it. “You don’t look so good.”

Miranda didn’t reply and didn’t make a move towards the asari, just folded her arms and stopped in the middle of the room. Liara chuckled softly, poured two glasses and walked up to her. Part of the wall opposite the windows was covered with monitors. Not as grandiose as the room on Hagalaz, but serving the same purpose. Half a dozen video feeds were running on them, none from this station.

On the middle one, a young brunette was sitting in a library, making notes on her portable, while reading datapads. It was a university campus, probably on Illium and Miranda was looking at a security feed of Oriana. Her heart sank.

“Mmm, yes. Lovely girl. Smart. She has a good future ahead of her. I am sure you agree.” Liara purred, stopping next to Miranda, handing her a glass while looking at the monitors.  
“Is… is this live?” she asked, taking the offered glass. Suddenly she needed a drink.  
“No. But I get regular updates.” Liara sounded positively cheerful. Miranda glared at her, that made Liara laugh. “Don’t worry. I hold up my end of the deal. You held up yours, marvelously. I should have known, that you would be thorough. And now I can pick up the pieces.”

Miranda scoffed.  
“I wish you could hear yourself, Liara. You sound like a petty little girl. You used to be better than this.”  
Liara’s eyes flashed, but she brushed away the anger. She was having her moment of victory at Miranda’s expense.

“Trying to appeal to my better nature, Miranda? Like when you convinced me to hand Shepard’s body over to you?” she strolled up to the screens and stopped next to the one showing Oriana, staring at it like she was looking out a window. “Well, I knew you could be trouble right then. The oh-so-pretty human woman. And then two years of waiting and hoping that he would come back.” She turned away to look at Miranda, who was still standing in one place, sipping the wine just to hide her nervousness. “He did, just not to me. You have no idea what it felt like. To lose him again.” Liara grimaced and waved a hand at her. “You can imagine my distress when I read your file and realized your genetic makeup. A perfect human female. I had to do something.”

“Why did you call me here?” Miranda asked, not interested in an other power-drunk monologue of resentment, superiority and childish glee. She started to have a bad feeling about this conversation. Liara didn’t need to call her here, or if she did, she should have gotten to the point by now.

Liara glared at her with a hurt expression, walking up to Miranda.  
“To talk about respect, Miranda,” she hissed, looking over her, snatching the half empty glass from her hand. “I think I have proven to you how serious I am and yet, I feel you do not respect me.”

Miranda held her gaze, but kept quiet. Her apprehension grew by the minute, her heart racing. Liara, however, expected a response.  
“What do you expect from me, Liara? You blackmail me with my sister, force me to break Shepard’s heart and I should respect you? Why?”  
“I think I have earned it, Miranda. The least you could do is show your gratitude for not harming your sister.”

Miranda hid her growing concern behind a voice of disdain. “You are insane.”  
Liara leaned closer and glared at her from barely an inch away. “See? That there! You still don’t get it, do you?”  
“Get what? I used to have respect for you. Not any more. All that knowledge you gained from the Shadow Broker corrupted you. Think about it, Liara! What would Shepard think if he saw this side of you?!”

“Enough!” Liara yelled, cutting off her passionate, last ditch attempt of persuasion. Miranda felt an odd sense of doom, like she walked into a trap and just realized it. And she didn’t even knew what it was.

It started with a backhanded slap. Liara’s body started glowing blue and she grabbed Miranda’s throat. Her hands flew up and gripped Liara’s wrist with both hands, baring her teeth.  
“I think we further need to establish who is in control, Miranda. You don’t know how real the threat is, until you get a taste of the consequences.”

Miranda’s eyes widened and her gaze darted to the monitors, afraid of what she will find there.  
“Oh, you thought I’d do that?” the asari laughed amused. “Mmm, it would be counter-productive.” She let go of Miranda’s throat, and took a small step back to look her over. “No. I’m not stooping that low. But you thought I would.”

Miranda swallowed, rubbing her neck where Liara squeezed it. “What do you want?”  
The asari pressed a palm against her chest. They were alone in the room, and Miranda knew she could put up a good fight against the asari, maybe even come out on top. And yet, over Liara’s shoulder, she saw her sister and she knew she was powerless.  
“If you won’t give me the proper respect, I have to resort to other methods.”

Liara reached for the collar of Miranda’s outfit and began to open her jacket.  
“What the—” Miranda growled, brushing Liara’s hand away, taking a step back. “You can’t be serious.”  
Liara giggled, looking at her chest and shaking her head. “Now, now. You need to _feel_ who is in charge here, Miranda. You need to know you can’t win this, so you don’t get any ideas. Do you understand?”

Miranda tried to remain calm, hide the fact that her heart was racing and she had trouble keeping her breathing regular. She understood. Of course she understood. And normally she wouldn’t be scared, but the past few days had taken their toll on her nerves. Right now the only thing she could do was not show obvious signs of fear. She let Liara open her jacket and run her hands along her torso, slipping her warm palms under her tank top.

“I get it, Liara. You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, grimacing uncomfortably, pulling her shoulders up as her jacket dropped to the floor.  
“Yes, I do.” She squeezed her breast eagerly, making Miranda hiss. When the asari reached for her belt, Miranda slapped her hand away again. Liara smirked. “So you are going to do this the hard way, hmm?”

Miranda pressed her lips thin, her gaze full of boiling anger. She started opening her pants herself and slowly slipped out of it, keeping her eyes on Liara defiantly. She already knew she had lost, and she was trying to prepare herself for the pain and humiliation to follow. That didn’t mean, though, that she could not show some strength in this power play. She could settle for small victories at this point.

Liara seemed to miss the hint, but nonetheless she gave Miranda an amused look. Miranda stepped out of her pants and stood in front of her in a small tank top and cotton panties. Not waiting for the asari to give her more instructions, she pulled off the top and waited a few seconds before pushing her panties down. 

Miranda pulled herself straight, chin up, and stood in the middle of the room completely naked, the view of the gas giant behind her. Liara tilted her head as she admired her form, said something about being an anatomically pleasing sight for asaris, while her hands ran along her waist and cupped her breast with obvious lust. Miranda didn’t listen, just stared straight ahead, secretly keeping an eye on the monitor showing Oriana. _At least she is okay. She seems to be doing good_ , she thought and that almost made her weep. She tore her gaze away and endured Liara’s groping while she rambled about being fascinated with human hair.

“—I bet you trimmed it for Shepard” she was saying as she touched her sex, making her jump a bit. It brought her back to the present, feeling the warm touch, the asari’s palm cupping the smooth curve of her mound. “I did my research, you know.”

She tried to pull away, standing on tiptoes and frowning, shooting Liara another killer stare.  
“Can’t you just shut up and get on with it?” Miranda hissed, at the limits of her patience.

Liara chuckled, her fingertips poking between her folds that made her clench her thighs, trapping the asari’s hand. Miranda put a hand on her arm, pushing it away, but Liara was not letting it go. Pressing her other hand against Miranda’s full breast she started to grope her, forcing her to tiptoe backwards, Liara striding after her, their bodies almost pressing together.

They bumped into a doorframe and Liara pinned her against the wall until she opened the door. They slipped in as soon as it slid open, the asari keeping her grip between Miranda’s thighs and returning to groping her breast.  
“I just have to know what Shepard saw in you,” Liara purred, their bodies pressing together. Miranda could only turn her head away with a mild grimace, the asari’s hand pressed between her thighs. She squirmed. Liara did her research on human anatomy, that was sure.

Liara took a deep breath through her nose, eyes closing, taking in Miranda’s scent and hummed appreciatively. There was a dresser next to them and the asari reached out to pick up a jar, while she removed her hand from her sex.

Miranda relaxed a bit, sinking back onto her heels and closing her thighs, trying to calm herself down. This was just the beginning and the uncertainty was gnawing on her nerves.  
“This is an asari ointment,” Liara chattered, dipping her fingers into it and spooning out a handful. “Water of Janiris. Spices and oily fruits. I’m sure there are human equivalents.” 

She flashed a friendly smile at Miranda, spreading the pale, milky gel on her palms and then pressing them on her breasts with a firm move. Miranda jumped again, feeling the warm palms press her breasts flat, before the asari started to spread the cream on her torso generously, massaging it into her skin, working her way down her toned belly towards her lap.

“It helps asaris relax and heightens our senses. Many couples use it during sex, to enhance the melding. It acts as a kind of conductor to the psychic link.” Her rubbing palms reached Miranda’s hip, twisted her palm in a half circle over her smooth skin and glided it between her closed thighs. “Kind of like a lubricant, in human terms.” Liara added with a grin and worked her fingers expertly over Miranda’s smooth mound.

Miranda winced, pressing her palms flat against the wall next to her hips, trying to control her rising panic. Liara touching her sex made her extremely uncomfortable, bad memories stirring in the back of her mind.

Her loin was also stirring, the effect of the cream starting to kick in as she felt her body getting warmer from her breasts down to her thighs. It was like her skin tightened even more, her nipples hardening and the heat washing over her, making her sex tingle. She gasped as Liara massaged her mound and stroked her belly with her other hand. She was watching Miranda with a playful glint in her eyes, curious about her reaction.

As the heat rose, Miranda hissed or gasped at every touch, her flesh becoming more sensitive by the second. Her face flushed and she closed her eyes, finally unable to restrain herself and grabbed Liara’s wrist, trying to push it away from her squirming lap.

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily now, fighting Liara’s firm hands.  
“Uh, I did what you told me, huhh, Liara!” She said through clenched teeth. “Just. Stop.”

Her brain was fighting with her body, the terror of somebody touching her against her will again clashing with the scents and the pleasant tingling in her core. She thought she left those bad memories behind more than a decade ago, but they were threatening to come back again. As she kept gasping and breathing heavily, which no doubt made her breasts sway to the delight of Liara, she wondered if the asari knew about it and did this on purpose. Her mind was getting fuzzy, though, making it harder to think this through. Not that it would help her—

When Liara’s hands disappeared, Miranda sighed in relief, pressing her knees together, trying to catch her breath and looked up, her face half-hidden by her hair. The asari was smiling, and slipping her dress off her body with graceful flicks of her shoulder, her arms running over her own chest as the fabric fell away.

She let out a sigh, half closing her eyes, very satisfied with herself. One blue hand ran down the curve of her hip, cupping her azure for a delicious second. Miranda watched her with apprehension, trying to figure out what was coming next. Even in this state, she could refuse the meld, at least she hoped so. She doubted that Liara could read everything in her mind even if she managed to break down her defenses. She was more worried about the _how_.

She found out the next moment, when Liara reached into the top drawer of the dresser and produced a strapon.  
“Really?!” Miranda groaned, sweat breaking out on her scalp, and her arms started trembling. Was the asari going to fuck her senseless until she lets her inside her head? That was the plan? She knew in her right mind that it was not how it worked, but she barely slept in the last few days and she was a carefully contained nervous wreck even before she stepped into Liara’s neat little trap. It still wouldn’t work. Probably.

Liara swiftly slipped into the transparent blue straps and fastened it on her waist. She reached into the drawer as she started prattling again.  
“Did you know that the batarian’s genitals resemble the human genitals the closest? Although, a bit larger and _very_ ridgey.” She slipped an anatomically correct plastic replica of it to her straps. “The main difference is that their surface is kind of rough. Like… sharkskin. Apparently this stimulates ovulation in batarian females.”

Miranda shook her head slowly, eyes closed, leaning on her knees with her hands.  
“Don’t.” It wasn’t a request. It was more like an argument. An exhausted effort at convincing Liara.  
“The human colonization guide discourages experimentation with cross-species copulation,” Liara went on, putting on a headband with a neural transmitter, and rubbing her palms over her new appendage, coating it with the remnants of the asari ointment. “Ooh, I can see why. It’s rough.” Liara purred. Miranda shook her head again, gasping from the heat that engulfed her body, and she felt dampness between her thighs.

It was hard to fight back her rising panic. She was already feeling that familiar pressure in her chest, and her vision narrowing, all her thoughts concentrating on minimizing the inevitable discomfort. It took all her willpower not to whimper or try to run away when Liara turned her around and pressed her chest against her back. She felt the asari’s breasts squeeze into her shoulder blades and the strapon pushing between her thighs.

She pressed her palms and cheeks against the wall, closing her eyes as she felt groping hands over her hips and ass.  
“Time for the lesson,” Liara whispered, her voice full of anticipation and restrained lust.  
“Don’t… don’t…” Miranda mumbled, whispering it again and again in a higher pitch as she felt fingers digging into her flesh, stretching it and then the strapon touching against her sensitive folds. She let out a terrified whimper, squeezing her eyes shut.

The pressure kept building on her sex, the asari kept muttering something and then there was a push and a strain and she couldn’t stop the painful cry escaping her lips. It was worse than she remembered, worse than she expected it, the crude instrument working its way inside her. Pain and terror paralyzed her. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open her eyes until it was over. In her mind the more she stopped resisting and moving, the sooner it was over.

The ridges ground against her folds, stretched her walls and sent jolts of pain along her spine. Liara moaned in delight, the neural transmitter providing feedback from the strapon to her pleasure centers. She could almost feel as the batarian cock invaded Miranda’s tight sex, the pressure sensors sending impulses to the headband.

It didn’t convey what Miranda felt, though, but the tightness was exquisite, if the asari’s moans of pleasure were any indication. She settled into a crude, but steady rhythm, the ointment providing some lubrication and Miranda’s body gradually started to accommodate better to the device. The oils also helped reduce the chafing, but not enough. Miranda felt the burning sensation creeping deeper and deeper inside her delicate flesh, her sex strained around the girth, the ridges irritating her folds as they moved in and out.

She clung to the wall desperately, her heart racing faster, fear crushing her chest, trying to dig her fingernails into the plastic, pressing her cheek to the wall harder, hoping for some comfort. Liara was very vocal about her own pleasure, and she kept stroking Miranda’s hair during the whole time, no doubt increasing her sensation. Miranda couldn’t help the moans of pain escaping her lips. After a while she could time her breathing to the rhythm of their bodies connecting, easing the pressure somewhat.

She was probably still loud enough for Liara’s pleasure. As the unwanted lubrication helped the act along, it didn’t take too long for the asari to reach her climax. She squeezed Miranda’s hip and shuddered, letting out deep, long moans of lust. By this time Miranda’s legs gave up and she collapsed on the floor, the asari on her back, filling her sex completely with her toy. Miranda let out a painful moan as they stopped, the appendage pressing into her flesh. She kept hugging the wall and waited, frozen in place until Liara caught her breath.

There was one last jolt of pain as the asari unceremoniously pulled out of her, making her gasp again.  
 _It’s over. Thank god, it’s over!_  
She slowly sank to the floor, all strength leaving her. The memory of the strapon was still intense, it felt like it was still inside her. She was trying to breathe regularly, while she felt Liara grope her ass, making crude remarks about her gaping, swollen flesh. Miranda knew that the burning sensation will not leave easily.

There was a playful spank on her ass, but she was too exhausted to even react.  
“Do you get it now, Miranda?”  
She swallowed, nodding feebly, still unable to push herself up from the floor.  
“This is how it feels to get raped by a batarian. A gentle one…” there was a pause. Next time Liara spoke closer, leaning over Miranda. “Imagine how it would feel like if there were more of them… Imagine how it would feel for Oriana.”

Miranda let out an exhausted sigh, trying to curl up on the floor. She fought with her tears, and the dread that seeped into her bones. She felt the asari run her hand over her body once more, then she felt cooler air rushing in as she stood up. Judging from the noises she started cleaning herself.  
“Now you know. Not only that I am serious, but also understand what the consequences feel like. I hope I made myself clear.”

She didn’t expect an answer, but Miranda wanted it to be over, wanted to make sure it was over. “Yes, yes you did,” she panted, her voice trembling.  
“How ironic, that Shepard suggested I should try to talk to you and find out what happened that changed your mind about him.” Liara laughed. “I was just too happy to oblige. Sadly, I will have to tell him that you crudely brushed me off… which wouldn’t be a complete lie, of course.” Another laugh. “I will be very understanding of course, and won’t take it to heart.”

Miranda forced herself to sit up, still reluctant to raise her head. She felt stronger now, but her lap was still on fire and the uncomfortable sensation of the invasion refused to go away.  
“He told me you will get off before you reach Earth. That’s smart. Until then, we will make sure he will not change his mind. I know we agree on this one, right?”  
“Yes, right,” Miranda whispered, defeated. She couldn’t fight this any more. She would do and say anything that would get her out of here without more pain.

“Good,” she felt the asari tussle her hair. “Appearances need to be kept, though. No hidden signals, no tricks, no secret messages. It will be business as usual with the XO until you disappear.” Liara paused until she got a nod and a mumble from Miranda. “You will receive instructions on your terminal. Remember. I see everything.”

“Yes. I understand.” She lifted her head and looked up at Liara. “Can I go now?”  
Liara frowned at Miranda like she was an annoying child.  
“Yes.” She stood there for a few more seconds, trying to decide if her message got through to Miranda, then she left the room.

Miranda sniffed, wiping her face dry and slowly she stood up on trembling legs. Liara was already sitting at her terminal, pouring herself another glass of wine. Miranda just stared ahead as she limped across the living room, picking up her discarded clothing slowly on the way to the bathroom.

The shower helped a little, at least she looked decent after it, but inside she felt broken. She still felt that… thing inside her, she had to walk carefully and it was an effort to keep all expression from her face. She didn’t dare to let go there and make Liara’s victory even greater by throwing up or sobbing in the shower. She just wanted to get out as fast as possible.

She dried herself as best as she could, making herself look decent in a mirror before slowly dressing up and walking out of the bathroom. Liara was barely acknowledging her presence as she crossed to the door, still moving carefully, hugging herself with one arm.

She stopped at the door, bowing her head and let out a soft sigh. Staring at the door panel, she spoke quietly.  
“I want to keep in touch with Oriana.” There wasn’t as much strength in her voice as she hoped, just a little determination, maybe.  
Liara scoffed impatiently.  
“Well, I guess you can. But no tricks. No secret code. If she gets wind and tries to disappear…” she didn’t finish, just waved her hand.  
“She will be safe?”  
Liara rolled her eyes. “Yes. Whatever. As long as you stay out of my way.”

Miranda pressed her lips thin and nodded, mostly to herself. She could do that. The way Liara made her ruin her relationship with Shepard, it would be easier. At least she hoped that in time the pain will go away, into the back of her mind, maybe, locked away with all the other bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original picture inspiration: http://rule34.paheal.net/post/view/1156578
> 
> The batarian anatomy idea was lifted from the alien genitalia discussion here:  
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/6066.html?thread=27533490t27533490


	2. Drifting in Space

Miranda spent the next day mostly in bed. She changed her schedule around, until most of her day was free. She even worked out her excuse, although the way she arranged it, she knew nobody would notice. Except Shepard, but he was too mad at her to make anything out of it. Liara no doubt whipped up a good lie about how big of a bitch Miranda was to her when they talked, and played the understanding friend, not blaming anybody. It was scary how good Liara was at this game.

Miranda spent the time curled up in bed, staring into space, trying to push back long buried memories that were threatening to surface. The uncomfortable sensation from her lap slowly faded away but she felt as if it tore up the old wounds and left a nudging sensation that she could not get rid of. She showered at least four times since she made it back to the Normandy, but it didn’t help either.

By that time, everybody on board the ship knew that things went sour between the commander and the XO. The crew was barely aware of the fact that they were an item. They didn’t exactly keep it a secret, they were just discreet about it. Miranda loved those moments. Not sneaking about, like teenagers, but keeping it professional and then stealing moments of intimacy here and there. The gossip barely got time to become a fact before the news started to spread that Shepard was in a foul mood and not consulting with Lawson as much as they used to. 

As for Miranda, she always kept to herself, so not much has changed for the crew to notice. Kelly noticed it, though, bless her heart, and she was adamant enough that Miranda promised to have a talk with her after her “day-off”.

Ever since the Collector Base, Miranda’s world was shifting and crumbling and twisting. She was quite ready to die on the mission. Everybody kind of made peace with it being a one-way trip. But their world didn’t end, so now they had to adjust to the future. Breaking their ties with Cerberus also shook Miranda up. She gave almost eighteen years of her life to the organization, and it turned out to be more corrupt than she thought. It was a strange feeling, drifting in space in more than one way. They only sure thing that she could hold on to was Shepard. And it hurt her much more than she cared to admit, to lose that connection. The _way_ she lost that connection. Now she started to feel more and more like she never had a chance.

So she returned to planning in her head, figuring out how to go about living once she was off the ship, how to lay low and hope Liara forgets about her after a while. Miranda didn’t know how she would be able to let Shepard go, but she knew she had to deal with it if she wanted Oriana to be safe. It was a choice she didn’t want to make.

The communicator beeped again, making Miranda shudder in the bed. She was starting to dread that sound. It always brought bad news. She activated it with a voice command.  
“Miss Lawson, the commander would like to speak to you in his quarters.” EDI said through the speakers.  
“Did he say why?”  
“No. He only said that he knew you weren’t scheduled to meet, but this is official matter.”  
“Thank you, EDI. Tell him I will be there in five minutes.”

For one more minute, though, she did not move. She still felt mentally exhausted and physically weak, but mostly she just didn’t want to get out of bed.  
Eventually though, she had to, and staring down her image in the mirror, she pulled herself together. After all, she was Miranda Lawson. She was perfect. She was strong enough to handle this.

That confidence didn’t last too long as she walked out of her office and dropped by the mess hall to pick up a bottle of water. There was a low murmur amongst the people around the tables and quite a few glances in her direction. Miranda frowned. This was unusual, even with the breakup in the air. She never gave signs of her emotional turmoil. As she walked out and decided to take the stairs, she could still feel their gaze and noticed their nervous shuffle from the corner of her eyes. Maybe Shepard flipped out and made a scene and they all blamed her. She scoffed as she reached the captain’s quarters. That could be possible.

She sipped her water as she waited for the door to open and strolled in, a bit wary, but still confident enough. Shepard was not alone, though. Garrus was standing next to him, as solemn for a turian as Miranda could guess. Alarms started ringing in her head. Something terrible was about to happen and yet again, she didn’t know what.

Shepard was sitting at his desk, Garrus leaning against it next to him. Shepard looked up at her from a datapad he was holding. Miranda looked back, trying to keep it cool, trying to get _any_ idea about the danger she was in. She nodded to them in greeting.

“You wanted to see me?”  
“Yes, Miranda,” Shepard said in a controlled voice. He reached out his hand with the datapad in it. “Care to explain this?”  
Miranda looked at them curiously, with a questioning gaze. She took the datapad. She turned it towards her and took a look at the screen. Her heart sank.

She just stood there, mortified and stared at the screen in disbelief. It was a slideshow of a few pictures, featuring her. Naked. Under the shower.  
“I haven’t– I don’t under–” she mumbled, trying to form a coherent sentence, while her heart was beating rapidly and she felt herself blush, her ears burning and the pressure building in her chest. She lifted a hand reflexively to touch her collarbone.

And then she understood. She recognised the pictures. They were taken in Liara’s shower right after she violated her. It was hard to tell, because of the low light and the lack of details, but it was definitely her. It could easily be mistaken with the Normandy’s shower, even the one in Shepard’s cabin if somebody was familiar with it.

“Garrus found it on a table in the mess hall,” Shepard continued the explanation, while Miranda stared incredulously at the changing pictures. There were three or four, low quality shots, one of them giving a full frontal view of her with head bowed, water sprinkling on her and trickling down in rivulets over the curves of her breast, the water and the shadow making them prominent, just as it hid nothing of her pubic area.

Miranda barely heard what Shepard was saying. Everybody saw it… in the mess hall… blood was pounding in her ears. Shepard rambled on about how Garrus, trying to save her dignity, snatched it from their midst and brought it straight to him.  
“Why him?” Miranda asked, looking up, still trying to comprehend what just happened. “Why not me?”  
“I thought it would be best for Shepard to handle it if it gets messy,” the turian shrugged. It made sense, sort of, to protect the captain’s integrity.

Miranda nodded with a bitter frown. Of course. She was compromised, the crew would not listen to her in this case. And since she had an affair with the captain, it was his reputation on the line, too. In other words, they did not trust her any more.  
“What were you thinking, Miranda?” Shepard asked with honest despair in his voice. She saw that he was fuming and mad, but that damn empathic side of him was worried about her.

And since this was planted there, and made it look like self-portraits, if she would blame somebody else, it would raise a lot of questions. She would look weak anyway, trying to get out of a tight spot with a crazy conspiracy theory. And if Liara gets wind of it, she would take it as a sign that Miranda tried to trick her way out of the situation. She obviously had a mole on the ship who put the datapad there... No, she could not risk that. She had to stick to the plan and try to get out of Liara’s way. For now, at least, and wait until the storm blows over.

“I—I am sorry, Shepard. I didn’t mean to—” this was hopeless. She took a big breath. “I was distracted. I forgot about the datapad and… and left it there by mistake.”

Shepard let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. It pained Miranda to see him like this. They both thought their relationship would help them save each other from falling apart, especially after the Collector Base. Before, they could have written it off as a spur of the moment thing, but in the following months, it became something else. Something she had to destroy, over and over again, while looking into his eyes.

It was obvious this hurt Shepard more than he let on, and she had to let it happen. He looked up at Garrus and thanked him for his intervention. The turian nodded and catching Shepard’s gaze, he politely left.

“Miranda, what is happening here?” Shepard sighed. “Why are you doing this?”  
Oh, if at least he would try to blame it on her, and give her a rant about how this made him look bad. Then she could fight back and argue with him, and it would make it so much easier for her to hate him, and vice versa. But no. He understood how bad this was for Miranda.  
She frowned, holding back tears.  
“I made a mistake, John. I was careless. It won’t happen again.” At least she hoped Liara had nothing else up her sleeve and this was her parting gift.

Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose.  
“Do you need me to relieve you of duty?”  
Miranda felt herself blush again, her knees trembling. Dark blots were swimming at the edge of her vision from the contained stress.

“No. It is not necessary,” she managed to say with a trembling voice. She frowned again, blinking away the fog from her eyes and stared straight at him. “I can do my job.”  
Shepard nodded.  
“So far you did a good job as an XO. But if you don’t want to do it any more…” he left the sentence open.

Miranda shook her head silently, pressing her lips thin. She didn’t dare to speak. She was clutching the bottle of water and the datapad with hands trembling.  
“Very well. It’s less than two weeks until we reach Illium and let everyone go. Can you manage until then?”  
She flashed her eyes at him. She almost retorted something, but she didn’t have the strength to get into an argument.  
“You know I can,” she said finally. 

They stood and stared at each other for a few more seconds. Miranda tried to read him, look for signs that he still cared for her, or if not, how much she managed to push him away. He was almost unreadable now. It only took a week of Liara’s little game to throw both of them off. No doubt, he was searching for the same signs in her, and since he had no idea, he could interpret Miranda’s turmoil in a number of ways.

“All right,” he nodded finally. “We will hold a briefing in two hours and lay down the plan for the trip back to Earth. Pull yourself together until then, and let’s try to forget about this,” he nodded towards the datapad.  
“Yes, Shepard,” Miranda said a little more calm now.  
“I’ll go talk to Garrus. You can take a few minutes if you want to—”  
“I will be fine, John,” she snapped. She didn’t want to break down in his room either. She just needed to keep it together until she makes it back to her quarters. She could do it.

Shepard nodded.  
“Good. That will be all.”  
They left together, but Miranda pulled herself straight, looked straight ahead and quickened her steps to arrive on the crew deck well ahead of him. She slowed down just enough so her walk didn’t look upset or embarrassed, and she tried to remain measured while she made it to her door. She could still feel and hear as they whispered behind her after she passed.

She made it inside without breaking the facade, leaning her back against the closed door. She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, realizing she held her breath back until now. She just stood there for a little while, pressing the back of her head against the metal, eyes closed.

She waited for the sobs and tears to come, rip out of her finally, or at least a frustrated scream, something, anything to relieve the tension. Nothing happened. She mastered self-control so well, that even when she needed to, she was unable to vent out her anguish.

Eventually she made her way to her desk and collapsed into her chair, slamming the datapad and the bottle down. She didn’t know how much time passed as she stared ahead with an empty gaze, but her terminal chimed again. She reluctantly turned her eye towards the screen and tapped the button.

It was a message from an unknown sender. Miranda sighed resigned as she hit the read button. A picture popped up of her, naked. Another image swam in from the side, a cutout of Jack. The primitive and lewd animation continued until it looked like Jack and Miranda were naked and making out. 

Miranda didn’t want to believe her eyes. What was this childish message going to accomplish? Mocking her? What did Jack had to do with it? She stared at the disturbing image, trying to figure out its meaning. There must be something to it, if Liara bothered to send it–or have her mole send it to her.

It was no secret that there was no love lost between Jack and Miranda, their argument was already legendary among the crew and the tension between them never really went resolved. Miranda doubted that Liara wanted her to go to Jack and be friends with—

Staring at her screen, watching the animation repeating in an endless loop, Miranda Lawson felt something go numb in her chest. Frozen in place, she was unable to stop it from spreading to her fingertips, her eyelids, her toes, to the top of her skull.

It was the next game Liara came up with for her. Miranda stared at the image of the always half-naked, young biotic slide next to her showering form on her screen and she felt sick. Of course, Liara would make her do something with Jack.

This was happening. This childish, pointless bullying that served no other purpose than humiliating an already defeated opponent, was happening and Miranda could only hope that it would end once she leaves the Normandy. But until then, apparently, her life will be made even more miserable.

Miranda, not for the first time, considered ending it all. The curse of being smart was that she could play out many different scenarios in her mind in very little time, over and over again. So far, she could not see a way out of this. She even contemplated suicide, which scenario entered her mind more frequently since her visit to Liara. It wasn’t depression, she thought, just pure rational thinking: one way to get out of the picture. Being dead, however, didn’t help to keep Oriana safe from Henry. Telling Shepard everything would risk too much, even if Liara was only bluffing with her threats. Confronting Liara would only bring her more of the same misery she was in now. It was not productive, either.

She wanted to feel rage. A few tears would have helped, a few screams or sobs to let the dams break in her mind, but it was just that dark numbness nagging at her from the inside.

She willed herself to take a few breaths and consider the situation. Liara had a mole on the ship. Miranda could get hold of the security footage to find them. She suspected that even with the vast knowledge of the Shadow Broker, it was improbable that Liara knew everything about the ship and the Illusive Man’s most secret operations. Even with the mole, Miranda could keep most of her privacy. She could rely on EDI, for starters. It would be hard to find other allies on the Normandy. Nevertheless, she needed to review her plans and put things in motion while she could.

Miranda let out a frustrated growl and deleted the message. What was Liara trying to do? How would she know about it? Why wasn’t this enough already? She could swoop in and pick up the pieces, get Shepard. Although Miranda might not have learned to respect Liara, after raping her, Miranda was certainly wary. And every time she remembered it, she shrank a little bit and felt that pang of fear inside her. No. She did not want to confront Liara, not now, when she worn her down. She just didn’t have the strength.

The numbness started to return. As soon as her thoughts drifted and her mind became idle, the painful things started to emerge. That actually made her eyes water and she had to blink a few times to clear her vision. It would only get worse, she knew, if she didn’t occupy her mind with something. How long until she loses it?

So. Jack. It was already making Miranda’s head spin, trying to stay rational and solve her problem, and that problem being Jack constantly reminding her that she was blackmailed into doing… something with the only person on board with whom there was no chance of staying civilized. She needed to sort this out, but the problem itself started to drag her into despair when she needed to stay calm and focused. She stood up from her chair anxiously, looking around, deciding to do a little workout. Then she stopped, realizing that it would mean leaving her quarters and crossing the mess hall again with all those people out there, staring.

She snarled, clenching her fist in frustration, then grabbed the datapad and threw it against the wall. Finally! She broke something!

* * *

Miranda felt only slightly better by the time she had to attend the briefing. Garrus and Joker were there with EDI chiming in through the comm. It was tense, a lot of averted gazes and restrained gestures, short and to-the-point discussion. Joker didn’t know if he should grin and grab a bowl of popcorn or freak out like a kid whose parents were getting a divorce.

They were two days away from a rendez-vous with a quarian ship that would take Tali back to the Migrant Fleet. Then they were going to Elysium to drop Jack off at the Grissom Academy, where Shepard managed to get a teaching job for her. Normally this would have triggered snarky comments from Miranda and Joker, but the pilot fell flat with any attempt at humour, so he gave that up. One day shore-leave at Elysium would give them enough time to refuel and resupply, and then they would head to Illium where most of the crew, including Thane, Kasumi and Miranda would get off, before the Normandy returned to Earth. Jacob, the ever sentimental, wanted to go to the Mediterranean.

Four days to Grissom, one day off, then five more to Illium. Miranda had to survive this long, and she had three days to figure out what to do about Jack.

Miranda contributed her part to the discussion, making suggestions on the course and supplies, even giving tips about some Cerberus safehouses and dead drop locations they could raid.

It was a productive briefing, ones they used to have when they were chasing the Collectors. It used to make them enthusiastic. Miranda, for one, enjoyed them tremendously, solving problems, brainstorming, seeing how Shepard worked, how good he was as a tactician, too. She probably fell in love with his intellect during these sessions. And now it was all bitter and awkward, all the magic gone from these special moments.

Miranda was looking forward to visiting Elysium before, to see the landmarks of the Skyllian Blitz and hear the story from Shepard himself, talking her through how he defended the colonists from the pirates. That was gone, too, ripped away from them. She would probably stay in her quarters. Maybe just stay on Grissom, taking a tour of the biotic school.

As the briefing wound down, her mood got darker, her thoughts straying again to dangerous territories. She had to grip the back of the seat she was standing behind and she could feel the first signs of panic descending on her. She just couldn’t bear the glares Shepard gave her, the way Garrus tilted his head when she came up with a suggestion, the weird glances from Joker, EDI’s eerie, modulated voice. It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed out loud.

Thankfully the briefing was over soon and she could escape before somebody tried to stop her. Back in her room she made it to her desk before sliding down to the floor, resting her forehead on her knees until she could breathe regularly again. After a few minutes she felt strong enough to sit up and do some work she was supposed to do as an XO. It distracted her enough to stay calm and make some notes while working out fuel consumption, supplies and flight plans.

She even squeezed in Kelly’s visit, just to get her off her back. She told her all the things expected from her about letting Shepard go, not holding him back, trying not even to hint at anything that would raise suspicion. Kelly smiled and nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she stood up.  
“I know it is not easy, Miss Lawson. I also know most of what you said isn’t true. It _could_ be, but it’s not.” Kelly kept smiling, touching Miranda’s hand over the desk. “I’m trained at this. I can see the signs of trauma on people, you know. Whatever your trouble is, you need someone to talk to. Just find someone.” She patted Miranda’s hand, who nodded at her solemnly, but with a straight face, and watched her go.

Miranda stared at the closed door for a long while. She have been delaying things until now, hoping it won’t get worse, that there is still hope to fix things. She lost precious time, based on foolish, irrational emotions like hope and love. It was time to lock away those feelings, throw them into the abyss that she felt growing in her chest and get to work.

* * *

For the next few days, Miranda settled into a routine of unpredictability. She did her job as an XO, but not in the normal schedule, taking a break at seemingly random times to go work out, check inventory, the cargo bay or engineering. If Liara’s mole was keeping tabs on her, she wanted to look nervous, awkwardly stalking Jack, trying to find a way to approach her. 

Scattering her break periods meant that she could only rest and sleep in small doses, faking free time while working on something else. It was exhausting, but it also meant, that it was harder for someone to track her. She snuck out datapads from the inventory and made plans while working out, before showers, making sure nobody was watching her. She made very cautious contact with EDI, determining that most probably she could not be corrupted and the Shadow Broker had no way of knowing about her full capabilities, especially since Joker unshackled her.

She broke pattern just enough to remain inconspicuous. Still, during one of her late night workout sessions, she almost jumped when she heard Kasumi’s voice coming from one of the crates she was sitting on top of, cloaked.

“So she breaks up with him for no reason,” Kasumi mused, like she was continuing an interrupted conversation, “Then she comes back walking strange, then pictures suddenly appear. Hmmm.”

Miranda glanced at the shimmer where Kasumi lurked, acknowledging her presence, but continued with the exercise. Kasumi took the hint and continued.  
“And she of all people, who does her job like clockwork, suddenly makes no sense. Now I ask: This is not professional. Is this just heartbreak? Or something else?”  
“What took you so long?”  
There was a chuckle. “Had to get my facts straight. I can tell if someone is hiding. Hunted. But on a ship? Now that’s just stupid.”

Miranda was panting harder now, sweat leaving dark spots on her shirt. She slowly stopped, picking up a towel and rubbing her face and neck dry, doing some stretching to cool down.  
“So what are you going to do about it?”  
There was another shimmer, possibly a shrug.  
“I found a datapad.” A pause. “I might just read it and see what it is all about.”  
Miranda rubbed her neck with the towel and shot a glance at the top of the crate, letting the facade break and look solemnly at Kasumi, giving her a curt nod, the only way she dared to show her gratitude.

There was nobody there any more and Miranda actually wondered for a few seconds if she only imagined it. She felt like she was losing her mind, so once again her rational brain examined the possibility if this was all just a projection of her subconscious. She noticed she was getting more and more philosophical these days.

* * *

If a bottle of first class Serrice Ice Brandy could stand defiantly, the one on Miranda’s desk certainly did it perfectly. Its rich, dark colour suggested a thick texture, almost like syrup, and held the promise of sweet and burning taste down one’s throat. Miranda glared at it sulkingly, arms folded across her chest, leaning back in her chair to be as far away from it as possible. Although it didn’t help that she had a glass in her hand with more than a generous dose of the same brandy, licking lazily at ice cubes as she absent-mindedly sloshed it around. The bottle’s twin was standing next to Miranda on a smaller desk. It was half empty.

Miranda sipped her drink, but kept her gaze on the bottle even over the rim of the glass. There were dark circles showing faintly around her eyes from the irregular sleeping and lack of eating properly. She had trouble getting out of her quarters in the last days, almost unable to bear the thought of crewmembers staring at her and imagining her naked just like they saw it on the datapad. 

She had no idea who saw the pictures at all, and absolutely no clue about what they thought, but she had a vivid imagination. And it certainly felt like she was naked, especially since she was the only one who knew how those pictures were made. To her, it felt like _everybody_ knew. EDI was sending her status reports on the crew, which she didn’t dare to open and Kelly filed her weekly psych notes that went to the same folder as EDI’s.

She checked the clock on her terminal and confirmed that indeed, more time has passed, five minutes of them, which made it about twenty minutes since she sat down to take a little liquid courage before she sprung into action.

It was her last chance, too, since they were one night cycle away from Elysium and the Grissom Academy. If she doesn’t do it now, it will be too late. Miranda had no idea what Liara would do if she didn’t at least try, but she was in no mood and certainly no shape to suffer another “lesson in respect” from the crazy asari.

“Fuck this,” she muttered to herself, downing the drink in one gulp, shuddering with a grimace and picked up the bottle on her way out. She was dressed to the occasion, as much as body-hugging outfits allowed, definitely rakish, her hair tussled just the right amount. She sneaked down to engineering, timing her arrival when nobody was around.

She took another deep breath for courage and descended the stairs, her shoes knocking as loudly as possible, signaling her arrival.

Jack was lying on her cot in a tiny tank top and a small patch of a panties, reading a datapad with a very solemn face. She looked up at the arriving woman with a mixture of annoyance and curiousity.

Before she could unleash, however, Miranda lifted a hand to silence her.

“I come in peace. Here is my offering.” She lifted the bottle casually, waving it at Jack.  
The biotic raised her eyebrows and scoffed, putting the datapad down and sitting up.  
“Damn, you must be fucked up pretty bad, if you come to me for company.”  
Miranda grimaced. Here it comes, she thought. Liara’s plan for another round of humiliation. Starting with Jack making comments of her love life. Since there were no set rules, there was no reason Miranda could not get ahead if it.

“Save it, convict,” she sneered, strolling closer, looking at Jack with half-closed eyes. “I am fully aware of the irony that a bloody criminal and borderline psychopath gets to teach specially talented children in a prestigious Alliance academy, whilst I, a perfectly well-adjusted, genetically perfect and may I say, filthy rich and influential… at least in theory… person has to go into hiding like a wanted criminal and traitor, after sacrificing two years of my life to do the bloody impossible and resurrect the greatest hero of the bloody galaxy.” She put the bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy down on Jack’s table like an exquisite piece of art. “There.”

Jack glared at her with an incredulous grin on her face. Normally she would have exploded by now and tried to slam Miranda into the bulkhead, but she found her rant endlessly amusing.

“Are you drunk, cheerleader?” She said as she stood up, eyes darting back and forth between the brandy and Miranda.

“Maybe,” Miranda shrugged, blinking sleepily. “And funny you should say that because technically I am no longer a Cerberus cheerleader on account of handing in my resignation verbally to the head of the organization in the most important moment of everybody’s life.” She looked around with a wistful sigh. “Yeah.”

Jack chuckled, picking up the bottle and checking it out.  
“You are not shitting me,” she exclaimed cheerfully, realizing the quality of the alcohol. She opened the bottle, smelled the fumes and took a gulp of the strong liquid, letting out a loud sigh at the aftertaste.

Miranda glared at her disdainfully.  
“Believe it or not, despite you being possibly the most unbearable personality humanity has to offer, and that’s saying a lot with Joker on board, and being a very good biotic myself, I admire your—” she blinked a few times, finding it hard to make a compliment, “skills and talents.”

That made Jack laugh.  
“I’ll drink to that.” She swung the bottle and passed it to Miranda who took it reluctantly, looking around.  
“You don’t happen to have any glasses around, do you.”  
“Nope.”  
Miranda scowled, wiped the mouth of the bottle and took a gulp as dignified as she could manage. Avoiding Jack’s gaze, she looked around, but nothing gave her any idea to talk about, unless she wanted to insult the biotic. Which she dearly wanted to, but had to control herself.

The awkward silence stretched on for a few more seconds, Jack cradling the bottle. She seemingly enjoyed the quality booze and found Miranda’s embarrassment entertaining.  
“Boy, it took you a lot of effort to come down here, didn’t it?”  
“Perhaps. A glass of brandy, I suppose. Or two.”  
“Well,” Jack lifted the bottle in greetings, offering it to Miranda, “In exchange, I can say that I think you are a snotty, uptight bitch I would love to choke, but I appreciate the gesture.”

“Let’s drink to that,” Miranda nodded, relieved that the biotic was not mocking her in excess. She drank from the bottle, grimacing at the uncivilised way of doing it, a drop of the precious alcohol escaping the corner of her lips. She hurried to stop it before it dripped, catching it with her fingers, but almost dropped the bottle.

Miranda could feel the pity in Jack’s glance as she followed her clumsy performance. She put the bottle down and glared at Jack. She did not need her pity. Then she remembered why she was here, and how that pity might exactly be what she needed. She almost cringed at the thought. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  
“So.” Jack said, breaking the silence again. “What will you do after this?”

Miranda shrugged again, then grimacing at the gesture. It was the third time in as many minutes, making her look like a sulky teenager. She also felt a bit dizzy as the brandy started kicking in. She needed more.

“I’ll figure something out.” She took the bottle for another sip. “Can’t go back to Earth yet. Have to avoid Cerberus. I have a sister, you know. I have to look out for her, too.” She looked into Jack’s eyes for the first time, just to gauge her progress, absently brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Yes, I heard. And I can fully see the irony now.”  
“Screw you,” Miranda waved, sitting down on the table. Their gaze met and Miranda tried to figure out what was Jack’s attitude towards her. She didn’t want to overplay her hand. “In any case, you were part of this crew and I was the XO, so I thought it would be proper to at least share a goodbye drink. Chances are, we will never see each other again.” At least she hoped so, after what was about to happen.

Jack shook her head, sitting down on the other end of the table, the bottle passing back and forth between them.  
“Noted.” She paused and took another look at Miranda. She started to feel that Jack was still suspicious, the way her gaze searched her. She should be, Miranda thought, and I am the last person that could convince her, that I have no agenda. “You don’t have to stay, though.”

“What? No more snarky remarks? I prepared with a lot of retorts in all subjects ranging from cheerleading to genetical engineering. I even have a comeback for a petri dish joke.” She was blabbering, and getting positively drunk. She took a careful sip from the brandy.

“I’m fresh out of those at the moment,” Jack shrugged, pretty uncharacteristically. Miranda shot a glance at her as she drank from the bottle.

“Oh, my God, you’re scared!” Miranda blurted out. “That’s why you’re serious!”  
“Shut the fuck up, cheerleader! This is what I get from you for being civilised?”  
“You are too kind, Jack.”  
“Yeah, well, and you look like shit. Sorry for taking a pity on you because you broke up with your boyfriend.”

Miranda couldn’t stop herself from cringing. She clenched her fist, but even then she didn’t feel the rage she should have. It was all too messed up and she had more than a week to contemplate on her fate. Not to mention Liara’s painful reminder, which drained her energy significantly.

“Whatever. My _ex_ boyfriend got you the gig and _I_ get to lay low in sleazy motels for the foreseeable future, which are hardly better than this…” she waved her hand around. She suddenly dropped out of character and looked into Jack’s eyes. “He believes in you. Earn it.”

And with that, she stood up. She was ready to give up and just walk out of there. She didn’t care what Liara would say if she ever finds out. In the end, Miranda barely saw the difference between getting violated this way or that way. “I’ve had enough of all the crap,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to navigate around the table.

“Whoa, how did this got from ‘godspeed’ to patronizing the psycho?” Jack snapped back, half-heartedly, which was not what Miranda expected. It was just half of the ‘fuck off’ she was hoping. For once, she wanted to fail at a task.

Miranda sighed, rubbing her forehead, leaning on the bulkhead with the other to stop herself from wobbling.  
“Look,” Miranda sighed, “I meant it. Congratulations.” She looked back at Jack over her shoulder. “I noticed you were nervous. You think you will be babysitting spoiled children and you are afraid you will fail as a teacher. But if Shepard thinks you’re good enough, then believe it. You will be fine.”

Jack slipped off the table and stopped right next to Miranda, tilting her head to the side and searching her with narrowed eyes. She was definitely suspicious. Good. Miranda was looking forward to getting one last rubbing and then leave. Maybe Liara was going for that effect, to get refused even by a crazy bitch like Jack.

“What about you… Lawson?”  
“I will be fine, too, thank you.”  
Jack reached out and gently pulled the bottle of brandy from her hands, putting it down on the table. It was an unmistakable gesture saying ‘you are too drunk’. The tattooed biotic sighed, rolling her eyes, like somebody was forcing her to say something nice.  
“Look. For what it’s worth—”

Miranda noticed the moment of weakness, and in an instant, she decided to act upon it. It was only a half-conscious decision. Her brain calculated all the variables and decided this was the optimal chance to accomplish the task set before her, but it also prevented Jack from getting too sentimental by finishing the sentence. And anyway, Miranda knew what she was going to say and she was fine with it. Part of her action was meant to save Jack from having to say it out loud.

She kissed her full on the lip, hands crawling to embrace her. She was eager to get lost in the sensation, just to get a little pleasure from this exercise in humiliation and to feel the touch of somebody after all these days of loneliness.

Jack pulled away instantly, at least she tried. She bumped into the table, but managed to push Miranda away with her hands.  
“What the hell?!”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Miranda sighed. “Just take it… as a parting gift.” And she was leaning forward to continue the kiss. Jack was still reluctant.  
“You are drunk.”  
“I have exceptional metabolism. I’m never drunk enough for long enough. I suggest you take full advantage.”

Miranda was still holding her in an embrace, which wouldn’t have been an issue for Jack if she wanted to get out of it, even with the table behind her. Miranda Lawson managed to confuse Jack.

“Since when are you interested in girls anyway?”  
“What can I say. I like to keep my options open.” Miranda purred, leaning in to plant kisses on the naked skin of her shoulder and neck.  
“What if I don’t?”  
Miranda chuckled.  
“With your colourful history, I doubt you haven’t tried it once or twice.”

“Fuck y—” Jack hissed, trying to push her away again, but Miranda didn’t let her this time. She was physically stronger and more confident. She kissed Jack hard, biting down on her lower lip, panting loud, fueled by brandy and the heat rising in her loins.

They had to stop eventually to come up for air, gasping and panting, Jack grabbing into Miranda’s hair to yank her head back. Miranda let out an eager whimper. She knew this kind of roughness, and when done right, she liked it. She had a feeling that Jack was pretty good at it.

She let Jack expose her throat, offering herself to the younger woman, pushing her chest out.  
“You’re fucking crazy, cheerleader,” Jack snarled, but she was laughing, her red lips pressing against Miranda’s neck triggering a hungry moan. Miranda threw her head back, enjoying the spinning sensation, alcohol and pleasure mixing together, lighting her nerve endings on fire.

“Shut the fuck up,” Miranda moaned, pressing Jack’s bald head down against her chest, feeling the hungry, wet nibbles on her skin.

Miranda clawed off Jack’s small top and Jack spun them around, sitting Miranda on the table and helped her peel of the tight jacket, revealing a delicate, lacy bra. Jack took a second to admire her heaving breast and they were at it again, groping and wrestling with each other for dominance.

It was quick and dirty, yanking Miranda’s pants off, Jack slipping out of her panties, and they were back on the table, Jack climbing on top, straddling Miranda and attacking her breasts, making Miranda’s whole body snaking as she moaned loudly, stroking Jack’s bald head with one hand, reaching for Jack’s ass with the other.

Jack worked herself up faster, fighting Miranda who was just giving in to her. She pulled up a knee between Jack’s legs so Jack could grind her smooth, damp sex off on her firm thigh. Jack was lean, a firm knot of tight muscles and a hard, squeezing ass that Miranda tried to grip, and Jack in exchange squeezed her breast with one hand and bit down on her other nipple, sucking her round flesh into her mouth with a hungry moan.

Miranda stroked Jack’s bald nape in sync with the biotic’s grinding hip and kneading hand. She gasped when she felt Jack’s hand roughly squeezing itself between their thighs, and fingers forcing her folds apart to intrude between them. Jack was not gentle at all, but Miranda was already wet and she wanted it. She felt Jack’s strong thighs squeeze her leg, her pussy soaking Miranda’s skin as she rubbed herself off on her and Miranda loved it. She was almost encouraging Jack to be rough by giving firm squeezes to her ass and gasping out in surprised pleasure when Jack went down on one of her breasts and groped the other.

Miranda came first with a throaty moan, shuddering under Jack, two fingers barely inside her tunnel, gushing her juices and soaking their lap. Jack came shortly after, riding Miranda’s thigh roughly, needily, face buried into Miranda’s chest, riding out her orgasm and not letting Miranda relax after her release.

They chased each other onto the next peak and the short calm before it, barely catching their breaths and soon they were exhausted, sweating. Their laps were wet with their pleasure, their hands absently roaming each other soothingly. At one point they tipped over the bottle which fell to the floor, shattering and spilling it’s strong, precious content on the floor, the smell of liquor lingering in the air.

After a few minutes, Jack found the strength to push herself off of Miranda, their chests separating, cool air rushing in. Miranda was lying on her back, Jack on her hands and knees above her, flashing a wolfish grin. Miranda forced a smile on her face. She was satisfied, all right, and spent, but the bad feeling started to return. This was too pleasant and barely humiliating to be Liara’s big plan.

“Now,” Jack smirked, looking down at Miranda. “You have to tell me what hell this was all about.”  
Miranda took a deep breath, about to say the lie she prepared, but it was not necessary. There was a noise from the staircase and Shepard’s voice before he even appeared around the corner. Jack turned her head towards the staircase, but Miranda just stared ahead at Jack and the ceiling.

“If you are fighting again, Miranda, I swear to—”  
He stopped dead on the bottom of the stairs. Miranda didn’t even look, just blushed and tried very hard to hide her despair behind a straight face.  
“Oh, hey, Shepard,” Jack said cheerfully, unabashed, nodding towards Miranda. “Kinda busy right now…”

Miranda wanted to sink into the floor. She felt this was coming, she was aware of the possibility from the start, but she still somehow hoped it won’t happen. But nothing would have prepared her for the feeling. She was lying naked under a nude Jack, sweaty and flushed, with the afterglow of sex surrounding them, and the smell of expensive brandy filling the air.

She could not imagine what went through Shepard’s mind, but he was left frozen, just standing there. Eventually, she _had to_ look, after the silence grew, Jack looking at Shepard over her shoulder, unfazed.

Miranda slowly turned her head to the side, not trying to cover herself up, lying there defeated. The shock on Shepard’s face was indescribable. Miranda dumping him out of the blue without any reason, naked photos and now, the final stab to his ego, fucking with the one person with whom they hated each other the most. That the person in question was also a woman was not even important at this stage. It was all there on his face, in that frozen expression.

All Miranda could do was to return his gaze, take this pain as a punishment and only offer a pleading glance in return. Shepard’s shoulders sagged, he let out a sigh and turned away, retreating up the staircase.

Miranda knew they weren’t exactly quiet, and probably the breaking glass was also not a sign of peaceful discussion, but it was still more probable that someone was eavesdropping, than their voice carrying far enough for others on night cycle duty to hear. Miranda was careful. No. This was the mole, reporting to Shepard that they heard Miranda and Jack shouting and screaming from the engineering deck. Given their history, there seemed to be only one logical conclusion Shepard could have drawn from the report—

“Well, that was awkward,” Jack said cheerfully, looking down at Miranda with a glint in her eyes.  
Miranda lifted a hand to rub her forehead.  
“Yeah, predictable.”  
Jack raised an eyebrow.  
“You _planned_ this?”  
“Getting caught by Shepard? Yes, because I don’t have enough crap in my life.” She glared at Jack and then stared at the ceiling again. “No, I didn’t plan this,” she added softly, closing her eyes.

Jack slid off her, propping herself off on her elbow next to Miranda, running a hand absently from Miranda’s chest to her lap.  
“How about… this?”  
Miranda shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. She was feeling dizzy but it wasn’t the alcohol. “It was an option.”

Jack chuckled, sitting up swiftly, dangling her legs and looking for her clothes. “You know, normally I don’t have a problem with casual sex.” She stood up and finding her panties she bent over to pick it up. “But this was weird shit, you know? Fun, but strange.”

Miranda sighed and slowly sat up, carefully avoiding the shattered glass and started to dress quietly.  
“You don’t really want to know.”

Jack pulled on her top and shot a curious glance at Miranda.  
“Are you sure you want to stay on the ship after this? You could get off at Elysium.”  
Miranda shook her head as she adjusted her bra and pulled on her jacket.  
“My sister is on Illium. I have to make sure she is OK.”

Jack pursed her lips thoughtfully, nodding. “You still don’t make much sense, cheerleader, but it’s your life.”

“Maybe I will tell you about it someday.”  
“You know where to find me.”  
Miranda nodded, combing her hair back with her fingers. She avoided looking at Jack during the whole time, trying to hold on to the remnants of her dignity. When she was ready to leave, she looked back over her shoulder, straight into Jack’s eyes.  
“I am going to take a shower. Sorry about the mess.”

Jack was leaning against the bulkhead and watched her the whole time with a searching gaze. She nodded in acknowledgement, folding her arms and watched Miranda go. 

Jack wasn’t exactly suspicious, as far as Miranda could tell, but she definitely felt something was off. She wasn’t being smug either. The best Miranda could tell, Jack was amused and maybe even a little bit empathic. All in all, she probably felt pity for Miranda.  
 _Great,_ Miranda thought. _Now it’s in my head, too. I’m guilt-tripping myself._

* * *

It felt like she was in a dream. She found the bathrooms somehow and took a quick shower, then got back to her quarters. She felt strangely detached, finding it hard to focus. Time seemed to slow down and it felt like she was walking through thick air. Maybe it was the brandy, she couldn’t tell.

She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, staring into space. It actually felt better than it should have, the sex with Jack. Maybe because some things in their pasts were not that different. 

And then cue Shepard and his expression. She probably destroyed any remaining respect he had for her, judging from that look. And she could not blame him.

They came off from destroying the Collector Base, riding the highs, getting rid of the Shadow Broker, and they had the whole galaxy at their feet. And then he went off and destroyed a mass relay and half of the batarian civilization. Technically a genocide. And then Miranda tramples all over his ego at a moment of self-doubt and hard decisions.

She let out a soft moan, resting her head on her knees. He will probably hate her. And the only way to survive, Miranda surmised, was to bundle up all her emotions and drag them to the back of her mind and lock them away with the rest, behind that wall that refused to break and give her the relief of it pouring out of her. They were sturdy walls, built for half of her life, to keep herself sane.

After a while, hours, maybe, she could feel an eerie calm descending on her. Her breathing became slow and steady, and her limbs felt light despite sitting there motionless for a long while. No cramps, no headache. She felt peaceful. She had nothing left and only one thing to live for. It became simple. She could see the whole picture now, the patterns and the paths to choose from. Now she could move on.

* * *

Shepard came to visit her the next day, after they dropped off Jack. Miranda remained in her quarters the whole time, deciding not to stir anything up by being in sight. She sat at her desk, neatly arranged, terminal, datapad, a bottle of water at hand, waiting, a peaceful expression on her face, hands resting in her lap.

When Shepard entered, she looked up at him and flashed a faint, polite smile. He stopped at her desk, folding his arms across his chest, his whole stance formal, but not cold or aggressive.  
“What can I do for you, John?” Miranda asked politely, her gaze locked on him but distant at the same time.

Shepard took a deep breath and frowned. It was obvious he prepared for this speech and it did not come easy. Miranda could understand.  
“I decided to relieve you of your duties as an XO, Miranda. Your recent conduct suggests that you are too distracted to fulfill your duties and you lost the confidence of the crew. This is a professional decision and has nothing to do with last night’s… affair.”

“I understand,” Miranda nodded, without the slightest bit of surprise, hurt or disappointment showing on her face. She reached for one of the datapads she prepared and gracefully reached it across the desk, towards Shepard. 

“This is the handoff documentation. Everything Garrus needs to know about the ship’s status, inventory, fuel and the staff. It has the flight plans, access codes, charts and all the forms that may be necessary. I took the liberty of filling out all the necessary forms for docking and leaving on Elysium and then on Illium and the Citadel. I know how Garrus freaks out from the paperwork, so I compiled only the relevant information that he will need to handle until you reach the Citadel. It won’t be a problem for him. I also included some notes about what measures to take to disguise EDI as a VI, so the Alliance wouldn’t pick the ship apart.”

Like the tidiest secretary in the galaxy, she handed over a storage drive and a handful of access keys, and one more datapad while she talked. After that she didn’t look back at Shepard, just stared somewhere behind him.

“I am sorry I caused disappointment, commander. I accept the demotion and I suppose it means revoking my privileges. I only ask for communication access so I can talk to my sister and access to the observation deck and the fitness facilities. If this is not acceptable I can stay on Elysium and find a ship myself.”

She stopped talking, licking her dry lips, hands returning to her lap and she stared straight ahead, swallowing and waiting for Shepard’s reply.

The commander stared at the datapads in his hand with a tormented gaze, almost like he didn’t believe it was happening. He looked back and forth between the items and Miranda, and he didn’t even try to hide the twinge in his eyes. Miranda stole a glance at him as he slumped into a chair, looking at the datapads in his lap.

“Well, uh, yes. All right, this will do.” he frowned, not lifting his gaze. “You can have the access you need but nothing that requires high security clearance. You don’t have to get off on Elysium. Most of the crew will leave on Illium anyways. It would be pointless to kick you off here. I know your sister is there.” Shepard sighed and looked up at her. Miranda took a deep breath, a peaceful expression on her face as she looked back at him. “However, officially you are under arrest and outside of the privileges granted, you are to remain in your quarters.”

Miranda nodded. “Thank you, commander.”

Silence stretched between them. Miranda kept staring ahead like a good subordinate and waited for her commanding officer politely. She was not anxious any more, even though she felt that this was the last chance to turn things around. In this final moment there was still a thin thread of hope between them, where they could possibly make amends before the chasm became too big. Miranda saw that thread and knew she could reach out.

Shepard was hurt and he didn’t do anything wrong. He tried to convince her, argue with her, even a little begging, demanding and reasoning, giving her several chances to come clean. She didn’t. Instead, her actions rubbed salt into his wounds. He was waiting for her to make the move. She felt his gaze upon her, that last thread of hope.

Miranda waited, until it snapped and was gone forever.


	3. I Disappear

Miranda Lawson first walked onto the Normandy literally owning the place and ran the ship smoothly as the XO. Her presence was undeniable and her coldness the stuff of legend, although she was never rude or cruel to anyone undeserving. That would have been impractical. And everyone agreed that the ship’s daily life was ran efficiently, and disputes settled by her firm voice if needed. Few dared to argue with her. She did everything for the machine to work seamlessly, giving Shepard enough room and freedom to build the crew and focus on the important stuff. Like saving humanity.

Miranda Lawson walked off the Normandy for the last time, literally unnoticed, and she was sure, nobody would miss her. She left with less than when she came on board. Not exactly disgraced but certainly fallen. Few dared to speak to her, or look her in the eye. She did everything to avoid them, giving Shepard enough time to leave the ship and say farewell to the crew. He never came to visit her. They all said their goodbyes to each other, while Miranda sat in her room with a duffel bag at her leg that held all her possessions she would practically need, and waited, watching the video feed on her terminal with an empty gaze. The terminal showed the cargo bay cameras and the airlock. She was waiting for her chance to slip out like a shadow.

After a while, when the traffic of the crew ebbed, she stood, threw the bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the room that she was never really attached to. She won’t miss the place.

Jacob was waiting outside, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the elevator wall with a smile.  
“You don’t get rid of me this easily, Miri.”

Miranda sighed, closing her eyes. She was trying to avoid this. She was actually surprised that Jacob waited her out. Yes, they worked together on the Lazarus Project, but drifted apart after Shepard woke up.

“Ah, Jacob. I should have know your sentimentality would get the better of you.”  
Jacob laughed and pushed himself away from the wall, opening his arms as he stepped closer.  
“Come here.”

Miranda stepped closer, awkwardly, glancing around to make sure nobody was there. She returned the embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder.  
“Take care of yourself, Miranda.”  
“You, too.”  
They parted, Jacob holding Miranda at arm’s length by her shoulder, looking into her eyes with deep concern.

“Are you sure you will be fine?”  
Miranda lifted a hand and touched his cheek, smiling softly, closing her eyes.  
“Don’t forget me, Jacob.”  
She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and walked away, leaving Jacob standing at the elevators. He looked after her over his shoulder, shaking his head slowly with an amused smile.

They never saw each other again.

Miranda walked off the Normandy with a thoughtful expression, her eyes cast ahead, a faint smile on her face. She didn’t look back.

She passed through spaceport security without problems and found herself in the main hall, where all passengers from all the ships poured in. Before Miranda could decide where to start looking for a ride, an asari spaceport worker approached her.  
“Miranda Lawson?”  
Miranda frowned, quickly looking around.  
“Who’s asking?”  
The asari gave her a data chit, then promptly left, calling someone on her omnitool.

Miranda tapped the chit to her omnitool and the map of Nos Astra popped up with a route marked on it. Touching the location revealed that it was a nightclub at the edge of the party district. A small message appeared in the middle of the screen:  
“Be there in 20 minutes - L.”

Miranda looked around again, scanning the crowd for anybody who might be watching her. There could have been anybody, standing around and waiting, inconspicuous. She stood there for a long minute, contemplating her options.

So Liara was on Illium. No doubt, making her move on Shepard already. She probably wanted to make sure Miranda was no longer a threat. 

Miranda let out an exhausted sigh. She might as well go there, and tell that mad asari in the face that she was done, and Shepard was all hers, she didn’t care any more. Liara could not make it worse for her, and she won’t let the asari upset her. She wanted to move on.

She hailed a cab and dialed in the address of the street behind the nightclub. She switched to manual and floored the skycar, making a good time and arriving a few minutes early. She had enough time to stake out the place, hide her bag safely and walk up to the main entrance.

It was daytime and the club wouldn’t be open for business for another few hours, but the door was unlocked and faint music filtered out from the darkness. She stepped in, waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust before going to the main bar area. Strip joints were all the same wherever one went in the galaxy. It was empty and dark, only a few lights around the cheesy decor. An asari was sitting at the counter of one of the dim bars, only a dark silhouette, but even before Miranda got closer, she knew it was Liara.

“Miranda.” Liara said, hearing her approach.  
“Why are we meeting here, Liara?” Miranda asked, cutting right to the chase as she glanced around. This time she had a pretty good idea what she was walking into. She knew that Liara would keep changing the rules and no victory would be complete enough for her, so she prepared for anything.

“To celebrate.” Liara giggled, lifting two glasses, handing one to Miranda. She just glared at it but didn’t reach for it. Liara shrugged, drank hers and put the glass down.  
“You won, Liara. He is all yours. Is this what you wanted to hear?”  
“Mmmm, yes,” the asari replied, tilting her head. “But oddly, it’s not satisfying enough.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Miranda said flatly. 

Liara laughed. “Not yet, anyway.” 

She nodded to the shadows and two asaris emerged, flanking Miranda from behind.

Miranda looked at the thugs as they approached her. Eclipse mercenaries, probably. She could make a run for it, might even make it to the door. But then what? If she managed to escape, Liara could still decide to go after Oriana. No. She had to play this game one more time and hope to get out of it with minimal damage, so she could disappear on Liara’s terms. That would be the best chance that she would leave Miranda alone.

Liara nodded and the thugs grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back.  
Miranda glanced at the asaris. She could still try to free herself before it gets worse…  
“Just let it go, Liara.”  
“Oh, I will. But I need…” she searched for the word, staring at the ceiling, before locking her gaze with Miranda’s, “closure.” 

Liara stepped closer, reaching out towards her with a dreamy expression and sunk her fingers into her hair, feeling the texture under her fingertips.  
“You have lovely hair. Fascinating,” she rubbed her locks between her fingers with a thoughtful look. “He always cuts it so short… it’s stubby. But this… gorgeous. Like silk.”  
Miranda pulled her head away as much as she could, dark locks slipping through blue fingers. Liara giggled, reaching after her again, tussling her hair, purring.

“I admire your genetical perfection. I really do,” Liara rambled on. “And you just reminded me, that you’re good at what you do.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t. It means you are still a threat.” She almost looked at Miranda adoringly, eyes slightly unfocused as she was stroking her hair, brushing it back from her face, behind her ear. It made Miranda uncomfortable, anxiety creeping up on her. She let out a nervous laugh.  
“Look at me. I’m not a threat to anyone. I just want to be left alone.” She struggled a bit in the asaris’ grip to straighten herself and shook her hair free. “What do you want now?” she asked quietly.

“I want to make sure you disappear,” Liara said, lifting a hand with palm up. One of the thugs produced a knife and put it in her hand. Miranda stared at it uneasily. Liara smiled and nodded, one of the asaris grabbing Miranda’s hair on the back of her head and hold her steady that made her hiss in pain. Liara grabbed a fistful of her hair, too and pulled, cutting it off at about third length with the blade.

Miranda winced in pain but managed to remain quiet. Liara lifted her hand to eye level and smiled at her as she opened her fingers and let her dark strands slowly fall.  
“Asaris don’t have scissors, as you can imagine,” she chuckled. “So this is the best we could do. It won’t be… perfect, of course. But that’s the whole point.”

Liara continued to grab handfuls of Miranda’s hair while she went on, and cut it, feeling the texture of each lock in her hand. The other asaris helped by holding Miranda steady, while she struggled to ease the pain in her scalp, gritting her teeth, wincing and hissing from the pain. It was a sneaky kind of pain, sharp, spread out and leaving a slowly fading tingle, making her eyes water.

“A reminder, if you will. Don’t stand in the way of true perfection.” Liara continued. “Looks are not everything, you see. He and I, we are perfect souls for each other. Something you wouldn’t understand with your pathetic, mundane mind.”

Miranda growled, hiding her pain behind frustrated moans. She was forced to stare at the floor while they tilted her head forward, watching her hair cascade slowly to the ground, like specks of dust in a path of light. She was blinking tears of pain from her eyes, unable to stop them.

“This is my farewell gift to you, Miranda. Closing our little deal.” She chattered, lifting her head to look in her eyes. “I hope you appreciate it. I could have done worse things to you. Cut your pretty face, for example. My predecessor would have had you killed. Or hand you over to Cerberus. Be grateful that I stopped here.”

Miranda frowned and glared at her through narrowed eyes, tears streaking down her face. She took a shuddering breath as she tried to calm her nerves, but kept quiet, waiting. Her whole scalp was numb and her body was shivering from the intensity of the experience.

Liara stared into her eyes. “Stay away from him.”  
“Just… stay away from Oriana,” Miranda growled.  
“Good girl. That’s the idea,” Liara smiled warmly and cupped her cheek. Miranda yanked her head away.

Liara searched her face, making sure she got the message, sneered then turned away, walking towards the exit.

“What shall we do with her?” one of the asaris called after her.  
“I don’t care. As long as you keep her… occupied for a while, it’s up to you,” she said over her shoulder. “I need a little head start. I will keep in touch!”

The asaris looked at each other, then at their prisoner and one of them scoffed.  
“Come on, let’s accommodate our guest.”

They started dragging Miranda behind the stage, through empty corridors, past doors and down a set of stairs. Below the main level and the stage was a large dressing area with mirrors and racks of costumes, some more private dressers, lounges and storage rooms. 

“What are we supposed to do with her?” the other asari asked when they were alone, leading their prisoner. She seemed less confident than her partner.  
“Set her up here as a fixture. The easiest way to keep an eye on her.”  
The other snorted. “Great, another competition.”  
“Don’t worry. Look at the bright side. We can dump the pervs on them,” she gave a nudge to Miranda as they reached the bathrooms, “and cherry pick the rest.”

They stopped at the door to the bathroom, shoving Miranda in and letting her go.  
“But all the clients want to try out the new wares,” the younger asari complained.  
“Sheesh, relax! The good ones come back to us after they had their fun with the fresh meat. Most of them never last long anyway.”  
“I still don’t like it. It’s less money for a few days.”  
“Yeah, shut up and get her gear.”

The younger one sulkingly left, leaving Miranda alone with the older asari in the bathroom.  
“I should have known Eclipse bitches double as strippers,” Miranda sneered after she regained her balance. She avoided looking in the mirrors over the sinks, and wondered how long she could do that. If she bowed her head, maybe a bit longer. Now that her hair didn’t hide her face, she couldn’t hide her expression, though.

The asari chuckled folding her arms across her chest.  
“Jealous? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Miranda wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing the tears away.  
“Come closer and I show you,” she hissed.

The asari scoffed. “Don’t test my patience, bitch. Make it easier for both of us and take off your clothes.”  
“No.”  
“You know, even if you get past two asaris, Liara will know you got away before you could reach your… girlfriend or whomever.”

Miranda knew it was true. She guessed that Liara would come up with something to keep an eye on here even after she left the Normandy, she just hoped she could dodge out of it somehow. She felt so tired of this whole game of wits.  
“No,” she challenged the asari. It was time to test the boundaries of her new prison. It felt better to fight back knowing that these thugs were no threat to her sister.

The asari started to glow blue.  
“I don’t have time for this shit, human. Undress!”  
“No.” Miranda repeated almost in a sullen tone, like a child. She had the crazy look to go with it and with her new haircut she must have looked like a witch.

The asari snarled, losing her patience and sent Miranda flying across the bathroom, slamming her into the shower walls. The wind knocked out of her, Miranda sunk to the floor gasping for air.

“No,” she croaked, taunting.  
“You have a death wish, bitch?” the asari hissed and waved with her hand, catching Miranda in an other aura of blue energy and slid her across the floor until she tumbled under the sinks. 

Miranda tried to soften the impact with her arms, hissing in pain as her elbow and palms connected.  
“No!” she said loud and clear, trying to get into a sitting position. She felt the yank again unable to turn into the direction of her flight path, slamming into another wall with her back.

This one was the most painful, making her yelp in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the younger asari exclaimed as she arrived back with a bunch of clothes. “How could she work the bars if you give her bruises?!”

There was a bit of arguing, while the maiden managed to calm down her older colleague. Miranda used this time to crawl into a sitting position and fight the pain in her body, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

Hands grabbed her roughly as the two started to yank off her clothes, not too subtly but apparently they were experienced at it, removing all articles without tearing them apart. She put up a little fight, not enough to warrant punishment, just to let them know she was not going to be easy.

“They always fight, don’t they?” the older asari snickered as they handled her. The younger just glared at her, clearly not in the mood.  
“I’m telling you, picking up an extra girl is a bad idea. How will we explain this?”  
“Just shut up and help me set her up, I’ll take care of it. With the money from that pureblood bitch and what she can bring us, we’ll be fine… There, get up!” This last part was meant for Miranda, who was left on the floor, naked and shivering, while the two asaris stood up and looked her over.

“Gotta admit, though. That’s some serious anatomy.” The matron chuckled, eyes flashing as Miranda slowly stood up.  
The maiden tilted her head as she looked Miranda over, a mixture of curiousity and concern in her eyes.  
“Hmm, nothing we can’t hide with a little medigel and makeup,” she muttered pointing at her bruises.

The matron looked at her partner and rolled her eyes. She stepped to Miranda and grabbed her by the elbow, yanking her around until she faced a mirror.  
“Take a good look, bitch. This is what you are now,” the asari hissed, looking her over. “Give us any more trouble and you will think back at this image with fondness.”

She reached out her hand towards the maiden, who handed her the outfit she brought. The matron took it and pushed it into Miranda’s hands in front of her belly.  
“Will you put this on or do we have to dress you up as well?”

Miranda looked at her distraught and shook her head, before turning her gaze back towards her mirror image. The matron snorted derisively and left her there.  
“You’ve got five minutes,” she said before leaving her alone with the maiden in the doorway, standing guard.

Miranda was not listening by then, just automatically grabbed the clothes and held it to her stomach. She stared at the mirror with a haunted look of someone who lost something or somebody important to her. The woman looking back at her was a sorry sight.

Sure, her body was still impeccable, even with the bruises that would fade easily, and anybody would be lucky to have her. Except that something was gone, that confident grace, that presence that made everybody pay attention.

It wasn’t the hair, although it did look like a haystack, uneven, chaotic, crude, but that would grow back. Maybe Liara meant it as a humiliation, but Miranda couldn’t care less. It would grow back if she wanted to, it only meant something more to an asari, giving it more significance than it represented. 

At least that’s what she thought, until now, as she lifted a hand dreamily and touched her hair. No, it wasn’t the ugliness and the shame that shook her. It was the way it highlighted her dull, bewildered eyes, the dark circles around it, her slightly sunken face. As if her hair suddenly represented how it felt inside and made it show on her face.

She was in a daze, mourning the woman that was lost somewhere along the way. She wished she could shed a few tears for her. Instead she found herself mechanically dressing up, putting on pantyhose, panties, bra, a pretty slutty outfit that she would have never worn by herself. She considered herself classier than this. But that was before.

She was still staring at her reflection when the maiden stepped up to her, holding out a glass of water and a pill.  
“Here. This will help.” She offered softly. “My name is Nissea.”  
Miranda slowly looked at her, just moving her eyes, then at the offered drink and pill. She reached for them and watched as that crazy-haired, scantily clad woman in the mirror lifted the pill to her mouth in slow motion and drank it down. The asari put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed her skin.

Miranda turned towards the touch. It was more than comfort, it was cautious affection.  
“It will be all right,” the maiden said with a soft gaze, taking the glass from her. “You’ll get used to it.”

Miranda looked at her and then back at her image. Yes, she thought. Once I get a little rest, clean my head, I can start working on a way out. It will be all right. But now she needed to pull herself together.

She tilted her head and checked out her reflection again. Yes, too sleazy for her taste, but still, she made it look hot. Even the hair was not that hopeless. With a little hairspray and a little wizardry, it could be even exotic, or wild.

As the drug started to kick in, she smiled faintly at her image. Yes. They will be all right.

* * *

The music was throbbing loudly, the bass vibrating in her chest, making every nearby object tremble. The tunes were hypnotic, tribal in their own way, sounds produced by nonexistent musical instruments. It made the whole world go blurry a bit as other sounds apparently had trouble spreading between the intense waves coming from the speakers. It felt a bit like she was underwater, even her vision narrowed down, foggy around the edges. 

She moved and lived and breathed to the beat of music, following rhythm and tempo, hanging onto the metal bars between spins and jumps. Now she was alone in the cage, filling it with her movement as it hung in one corner of the bar, half above the mass of the crowd. At the beginning, Nissea was there, too, leading her into the cage with a slight bounce in her steps, her body already moving smoothly to the music. They stepped in the cage together and the asari started to move like she wanted to fuck her right there, snaking her body this way and that way, so that she had trouble following her at first.

Nissea was nice, though, helping her along, holding her hands, improvising the sexy moves, showing her how to catch the waves. Oh, the waves! After a while, she could feel them, almost see them in different colours, rippling through the air. Nissea was smiling and laughing, complimenting her as she got more and more into the groove. She stayed with her for a while, until both were confident that she had the moves down before leaving her alone in the cage. It was liberating, which she knew was ironic. It made her laugh. No, it’s not irony, it’s a paradox, silly! That just made her laugh even more.

She owned the crowd around her. People were subconsciously adapting their style to hers, like she was a relay of the beat emanating from the rumbling boxes. She smiled and laughed, watching the people around her with half-closed eyes. If she could almost see the waves of the music, she was definitely seeing the ripples her dancing made in the crowd. Sometimes she would look around and check out the other cages scattered around the place, hanging or standing on elevated platforms and the other girls dancing and dancing the night away. They were transmitters, channeling the energy of the musical waves.

She didn’t feel tired at all, even though she must have been doing this for hours. Sweat was an oily sheen on her perfectly smooth skin, highlighting her curves in all the right places, drawing many stares from the crowd. People were cheering her, trying to touch her which she easily avoided, laughing, and he got quite a few offers, not to mention the credit chits thrown at her feet. She was always nice to them, trying to make eye contact if possible, giving them a wink, a shake of her hip or a glance over her shoulder, but some wanted more. A few of them tried chatting her up, telling her they know her, yes, and that she shouldn’t be doing this, sure, and that they were on the same ship together, of course. One of them even guessed her name, but that was just pure luck, she thought. She quickly forgot about them.

After a while, her replacement arrived and she walked off, still upbeat, pleasantly tired. She knew she could do it for hours, but her legs would hurt like hell tomorrow. Nissea found her and lead her into a backroom lounge where a bunch of girls were giggling, holding drinks, talking to males of different species, all looking filthy rich. Somebody gave her a glass of cocktail and sat her down around a table. She was trying to follow the conversation, but her head was buzzing, still under the influence of the music. It was more quiet in the back but her ears were still ringing, and the booze was pleasantly warming her throat, slipping down easily—

—she woke to a jolt of pain radiating from her lap, pressure building up between her legs. The whole room was spinning and she had to make a heroic effort just to open her eyes. Everything was unfocused, but the pain increased, pushing her legs apart and then another jolt as something entered her. 

She cried out louder, the shock making her eyes snap open and the blurry spots started to morph into more details, four orbs, ridges, bobbing up and down, the pain increasing. Ignoring the dizziness and focusing on the objects in front of her she could filter out the spinning room and she saw a batarian’s face looming above her. She was in a bed, lying on her back and a batarian was panting his stinky breath into her face, leaning closer with his tongue hanging out to lick her.

She grimaced, turning her face away and forced her hands to stop flailing, trying to push him away while the pain spread in her sex, the pressure increasing deeper inside her. When the batarian refused to budge, leaning in for a wet lick, she hit without thinking, a very basic and well-trained reflex, slamming the base of her palm up towards the batarian’s jaw. His sharp teeth snapped close, biting into his tongue, making his body jerk above her, that just sent another jolt of pain into her middle. She gritted her teeth, exhaling sharply as she slammed her forehead into the middle of the batarian’s face.

It worked, the client’s head snapping back, his hands pushing her down and himself away from her. The pressure stopped between her legs, leaving a throbbing pain behind and he tried to scream in pain. By this time, she was panicking, clawing at his chest and pushing him away. As soon as she had enough room, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She was surprised how flexible she was. Her feet connected with his chest, one-two-three rapid kicks sending him reeling back. 

Next she straightened her leg, stabbing her heel up against his jaw. She was still wearing high-heeled shoes. She glared at the sight in surprise, not remembering when she put on heels and seeing how the sharp edge sank between the batarian’s chins.

He roared and fell off the bed, sticky, stinky blood spraying from his bitten tongue, broken nose ridge and punctured chin, drops showering her. She crawled backwards as fast as she could, falling off the bed on the other end, trying to hold onto the floor as the world kept spinning.

Her ears were still ringing, but the muffled sounds of agony reached her still as the batarian struggled with the pain. She heard him cursing and she tried to somehow turn towards him to be ready when he attacks, but he was in too much pain. After hearing him thrash wildly around, shouting hysterically, he stumbled out of the bedroom, which gave her enough time to stand on her hands and knees and look around.

The dizziness was relentlessly stirring up her senses, but after a lot of squinting she noticed the small bathroom through an open door. She made her way there, clinging onto everything she could, turning over chairs and sending some stuff tumbling off shelves and dressers.

She reached the sink and pulled herself onto trembling legs, opening the cold water and pushing her head under the running water.

Miranda gasped, the cold shocking her back to her senses. She suddenly remembered who she was and where she was the last time she remembered things.

There was a pill and a glass of water and by the time she realized she has been drugged, she was falling onto a couch in the dancers’ lounge. She should have seen that coming, she chided herself, it was so obvious. But she was distraught, and they caught her in a moment of weakness. She can’t afford to have one of those ever again.

Focusing on the task at hand she knew she needed to drink as much water as possible to counter the effect of any drug she was given, not to mention the alcohol she must have drunk. She started to drink from the tap, letting the cold water soak her scalp when she stopped to gasp for air.

She heard muffled noises from the corridor, shouting and shuffling and thuds and asari voices cursing. They got closer and closer, so Miranda hurried to drink more before they got to her, to regain some of her strength and have a fighting chance.

Before she could push herself up standing, however, a strong hand grabbed her hair, yanked her roughly out of the bathroom and sent her flying onto the bed.  
“Good thing we left enough of the bitch’s hair to hold onto,” the asari matron hissed, the same one who held her down before.  
“What is it with you and bathrooms?” Miranda mumbled as she tried to climb off the bed, blinking water from her eyes and shaking her head to clear her vision. Nissea was standing there on the other side of the bed with a bewildered glare, blocking Miranda’s way.

The other asari was already on top of Miranda, grabbing her throat lifting a fist to knock Miranda out.  
“Wait! Not here!” Nissea shouted in a panicky voice. “Look at all the blood already!”  
Miranda grasped the matron’s wrist with both hands, trying to look her in the eye.  
“I’m gonna throw up,” she slurred, hoping they buy it.

The asari grimaced in disgust, letting go of her throat. She snarled as she looked around while Miranda gagged and croaked.  
“How the hell did you clock him anyway?”  
Miranda shrugged, standing wobbly on her feet, looking in her direction with heavy, unfocused eyes. “I’m that good.”  
The asari shot a glance at her, surveying the bedroom with the bloody bedsheets. It didn’t look good indeed.

“You were supposed to drug her, Nissea!”  
“I did! Just like you told me!” the maiden replied indignantly. Miranda expected her to start crying any second.

“She should have been out for a couple of hours more at least!” The asari snapped her head towards Miranda. “How the hell did she come off it?”  
Miranda shrugged again, flippantly.  
“I have exceptional metabolism.”  
The matron glared at her again. “Let’s go out the back, quickly.” 

Miranda stumbled, trying to fake a fall towards the asaris, but the matron caught her by the hair again.  
“What’s it with asaris and hair?!” she hissed, gripping the wrist again to ease the pain. 

The asari was not being gentle, even less so than before. She shoved and dragged and yanked Miranda out into the corridor, both of them almost falling over the batarian’s body, lying on the floor.

“What about him?!” Nissea asked on the verge of panic.  
“Grab him and drag him out the back,” the other asari hissed and stormed ahead, pulling Miranda with her. Miranda could only see the floor as she was dragged along, turning and twisting corridors, and despite the pain and the roughness, she was glad she didn’t try to deal with them in the bedroom, because she would have never found the way out of this place.

The asari kicked open the stage entrance that opened into a back alley and growling with frustration, she shoved Miranda forward, who landed in a big pile of trash. While she crawled out, the asari slowly walked down a few steps to be on the street level, an arm’s reach from her. Or kicking distance, as it turned out, when a boot connected with Miranda’s stomach, sending her stumbling back.

“Fucking human bitch! Ruining our side business!” She hissed, jostling to get into a better position, waiting for Miranda to clamber to her hands and knees again. Miranda even managed to kneel up and slowly lift her head.

“You hit like a girl,” Miranda chuckled, still blinking away the pain. The asari got ready to kick again, Miranda weakly trying to lift her arms in defense, when the stage door rattled open again and Nissea emerged, pulling the batarian with her.

The matron turned towards her, and Nissea looked back with a miserable expression.  
“I think he’s dead,” she whined.  
“Well then bring him down here. We can kill two—”

The next second she was sliding down the wall two yards away, dead. The crackle of biotic energy flickered around Miranda’s fist, the faint smell of ozone filling the alley. Nissea froze, dropping the batarian’s legs in shock as she watched the other asari collapse bonelessly into a pile of trash, leaving a dark spot on the wall.

Miranda looked up at her from where she knelt, various pieces of debris in her hair, her torn bra and panties barely covering her body, and her eyes glowed bluer than her fist.  
“This is what happens when a force equaling a hundred-ton train traveling at sixty miles an hour impacts a body and accelerates it to that speed in less than two yards’ distance, right into a concrete wall.” Miranda growled, her whole right arm glowing blue. She bared her teeth. “It’s basic physics, really.”

Nissea started running away from Miranda, towards the end of the alley. Miranda was ready to throw a ball of energy after her, when the asari simply let out a painful grunt and dropped to the ground in the middle of the street. The air shimmered around her and a shape became visible, pulling off a hood.

“They always try to run,” Kasumi chuckled, standing over the stunned asari.

Miranda let out a relieved sigh, collapsing back onto her heels, her biotics fading away.  
“Good timing,” she nodded to the thief, just kneeling on the street until she could breathe and move again, hugging herself. “How long was I in there?”

“Half a day, maybe.” Kasumi said, pulling her gun and grabbing Nissea by the back of the neck with the other and prowled closer to Miranda. It was amazing, how the little thief could make even this look dangerous.

She shoved the still gasping and choking asari to the ground and pointed a gun at her while she looked over Miranda, tilting her head.  
“You look sexy,” she remarked in a flat tone that earned her a glare from Miranda.  
“We’ll talk about this later. First we need to get out of here,” Miranda looked around. “And clean up this mess. Do you have a car?” she asked, turning towards Nissea.

“I… yes.” Nissea groaned, risking a glance at Miranda before staring back at the gun pointed at her face. “It’s close by.”

Kasumi looked at Miranda who nodded with a sigh, rubbing her arms. The thief just flicked the gun at Nissea, signaling her to get up and show her the way. As soon as she was standing, Kasumi slipped behind her and pulled on her cloak. “No tricks,” she warned and they were off.

Miranda watched them go, rocking herself as she sat on her heels, sniffing and rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, surveying her situation. She was coming off the high of whatever drug they gave her, exhaustion and depression slowly kicking in, making her shiver and her hands tremble. She was only wearing that lingerie she was dancing in, less than decent on the streets of Nos Astra even if they were not torn. As it were, she had to hold one side of her bra in place.

And of course there was the dulling pain between her legs that made her sneer just thinking about it, and made her throat clench. _”No”_ she thought, _not now. It’s just the drugs anyway. There will be time to flip out later._

Still, she laughed out bitterly, this is how low she fell. Into the gutter, shorn and scorned, among the trash without a speck of decency. She let out an exhausted sigh and crawled over to the dead asari, checking her belt and pockets, setting aside anything that could be useful, including her omnitool. She stopped to ponder for a few second then scoffed and with a shrug and still trembling hands, she began to unbutton the asari’s pants.

The way the asari’s spine was mushed into jelly and her ribs and shoulder shattered, purple blood oozing out from all the places where bone punctured the skin, Miranda gave up on salvaging the top she was wearing.

She dragged off the asaris boots and the patented leather pants and pulled them on. The pants was a decent fit, a bit tight at the hip but good enough on her thighs, and the boot was large enough for now. She even managed to fix her bra, making it just a little bit tighter and skimpier, pressing her breasts together, but at least better than it was before.

A skycar coasted slowly into the alley and stopped next to her. Nissea and Kasumi stepped out, the asari sullen and quiet, the thief looking at her appraisingly.

“You know, with this new look and hair, for a moment there I thought you were Jack.”  
Miranda grimaced. “Very funny.”

“What now?” Kasumi asked.  
Miranda looked around. “Is the batarian dead?” she asked Nissea.  
The asari shrugged. “Probably. I don’t know.”  
“Well, check it out then and throw him into one of the trash bins.” She nodded towards the dead asari. “Put her in the trunk.”  
“I-Is she…”  
“Completely.” Miranda nodded, adjusting the belt and strapping the omnitool to her wrist. “I wouldn’t hold her by the arms, though.”

While Nissea did the dirty work and handled the bodies with Miranda’s supervision, Kasumi got rid of the evidence, searching the batarian, spilling every kind of fluid she could find in the trash over the bloody spots. Miranda took great pleasure in seeing the batarian dumped unceremoniously into a trash container and she threw a couple of heavy items on top of the corpse herself for good measure.

The most unpleasant part was getting the other asari in the trunk, and Miranda mercifully allowed Nissea to use biotics to get her inside. Then the maiden retched and threw up a little. She looked pretty shaken. In the end, Kasumi offered to drive.

They got in and Miranda asked the thief to slowly coast down the alley.  
“Stop,” Miranda said a hundred yards down the alley, and got out in front of a door that lead into a small, deserted shop. She came back with her duffel bag, feeling better, now that she had some of her possessions back.

To Nissea’s great chagrin, Miranda decided they should go to her apartment. Kasumi nodded with a satisfied smirk, pressed “HOME” and followed the directions on the navigator. It was a quiet drive, Nissea in the back seat, held at gunpoint by Miranda, who was checking the traffic and their prisoner sternly.

“Don’t you have spare clothes in that bag of yours?” Kasumi asked amused after a little while.  
“Of course I do.”  
“Then why don’t you put something on?”  
Miranda laughed softly, rolling her eyes as she looked herself over. She pouted her lips appreciatively and glanced at the thief.  
“Don’t know. Maybe I’m starting to like the Jack look” she said, giving a little shake to her upper body, making Kasumi giggle and shake her head.  
“But Jack has smaller tits. Yours are distracting.”

“You just keep your eye on the road,” Miranda chided and a faint smile softened her expression as she looked out the window at the traffic. She wasn’t paying much attention, though, her eyes staring into space instead as she recalled her encounter with Jack. Apart from the nervousness at the beginning and the awkwardness at the end, those needy touches and fierce kisses and curious explorations were still making her warm inside. She hated to admit it, but that part felt good, even if the inevitable aftertaste of shame always followed, for betraying Shepard. It wasn’t her idea, but still, she could have stopped before it got out of control. Or maybe if he came down earlier—

Miranda closed her eyes: there it is, those intimate moments, ruined again in her mind. She hoped it would fade with time.

“We’re here,” Kasumi said, pulling her back to the present. 

Miranda blinked a few times to clear her eyes and focus. “Good. Right. Let’s get inside.”

Nissea lived in a low-end, middle-class apartment complex, not too flashy, considering her line of work. She was either at the bottom of the ladder in Eclipse and the nightclub, or just smart enough to secure her future. They parked in the garage and took the elevator to the middle levels of the living towers.

Nissea remained quiet, still shaken by the events of the night, a bit cowed by this new Miranda that emerged, wearing her patron’s leather pants and a bra like a battle armor, gun in one hand, bag thrown over the other shoulder, those piercing, icy blue eyes staring at everything from her pale face, made all the more intimidating by the shock of unruly, black hair. It was evident, that with the quiet calm of the cloaked thief and the suffocating authority of the pale woman, Nissea was way out of her league.

Miranda marched into Nissea’s apartment like she owned the place, giving it a quick look with eyes narrowed, and threw her bag down in the living room.  
“I’m going to take a long shower.” She declared, nodding to Kasumi. “Make her useful and we’ll have a little talk after.”

The thief nodded back, already busy searching the kitchen for food and drinks, while the asari stood in the middle of her own flat like a guest who should be grateful to be there at all.

As soon as Miranda closed the bathroom door behind her, she leaned her back against it, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. Now would be a good time to flip out, relieve some of the tension that was bottling up inside her. She gave it a minute of heavy breathing, but all it did was making her dizzy again. Once again, she managed to choke it down so much, that by the time she was safe, it was locked away in the back of her mind with the rest of her demons. She was afraid what was going to happen once those walls fall and it would all explode from her, like a great flood. It might drown her.

She looked up, head still bowed down and stared at her in a mirror again. That torn, ghastly woman that was ripped of everything she once was and stood naked in another bathroom was gone. Instead, she saw a fury from the myths, a dark-eyed, pale bitch with a raven black haystack of a hair, half-naked, her cold stare as savage as her looks.

Miranda smirked. Yes. Jack would love this.

She forced herself to move, shedding off her clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water soak her, and she rubbed herself clean of the oil, the sweat, but mostly clean of the touch of the batarian on her until she felt her skin burning.

She emerged clean and composed, much more confident and relaxed than before, just missing that feeling of relief that comes after a proper breakdown. She could have used a little bit of not being on the edge.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked, tying the bathrobe belt around her waist, her head wrapped in a towel.  
“Just a lot of awkward silence,” Kasumi shrugged. “There is some edible food on the kitchen counter. I’d stick to the fruits, though.”

Miranda nodded. Kasumi and Nissea were sitting in the living room across each other on a couch. Miranda looked them over and started to go through the drawers, closets, shelves and dressers, checking their content and threw anything she found valuable, clothes, underwear, shoes, sunglasses, headgear, into a large armchair. In the meantime, she was addressing the asari under the watchful eyes of Kasumi.

“I need your full attention, Nissea,” she said. “Are you listening closely?”  
The asari nodded. She looked much more timid now, than when she held Miranda down and helped Liara cut her hair, and then dragged her downstairs and strip her, while bitching about how people would fuck Miranda instead of her. Right before she gave Miranda drugs. There was fear, and some remorse in her stance.

“You take your friend and bury her somewhere, where nobody will find her. You will then go back to work the club and the Eclipse like you normally would.” She glanced at the asari to see if she followed her. “If anybody asks about her…”  
“Jenita,” Nissea said sullenly.  
“I don’t care. You tell them that there was an argument with a batarian client, they got into a fight and that’s the last time you heard about her. If they find the batarian, they’ll think she killed him and went into hiding. You can pretend to be clueless. Got it?”

Nissea glared at her, but did not respond. Miranda stopped ransacking the asari’s wardrobe, strolled to the kitchen and started searching the fruit bowl while unwrapping the towel on her head and rubbed her hair dry.  
“We have never met, and you don’t know what happened in that bedroom.”

Nissea looked at Miranda over the shoulder with surprise.  
“I-I don’t understand.”

Miranda picked up a round, local fruit with a purple skin, sniffed it and strolled back into the living room, sitting down next to Kasumi and crossed her legs. Even in that bathrobe, with that haircut, she already had some of her old presence back. With the laconic thief by her side, who rested an elbow leisurely on the back of the couch, they started to look like leaders of a high-class gang.

Miranda bit into the fruit, careful not to let drops of the juice fall on the robe as she sucked on it before biting it off. She glanced at Kasumi from the corner of her eyes and let out an approving hum, before turning her attention back at Nissea.  
“As far as you are concerned, I was never there.” She explained, licking her fingers.  
“But, what if-what if _she_ asks?”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, quickly putting the pieces together. Now she remembered Liara’s last words to the duo.  
“Oh. Tell her whatever she wants to hear,” Miranda waved. “Everything is fine, I’m kept there locked in a room, dancing at night, fucking until dawn.”

Kasumi chuckled and Nissea blinked, shaking her head confused.  
“Wh-why?”  
“She led me there for a reason. So she would know where I am.”  
“But what if she comes to visit?”  
Miranda snorted. “She won’t.”

It was Kasumi’s turn to raise an eyebrow.  
“She won’t?”  
Miranda shook her head. “She doesn’t really care. I’m a threat to her when it comes to… _him_. As long as she is close to him and I’m not, she doesn’t give a fuck. She’s so smitten, she’ll eventually forget about me.”

Kasumi grimaced.  
“You sure about that.”  
Miranda turned her attention back to Nissea, who was squirming in her place, hands clasped nervously between her knees.  
“How does she struck you, Nissea?”  
“Who, the pureblood?” The asari shrugged. “Self-absorbed. Spoiled. Powerful.”

Miranda nodded.  
“Exactly.” She glanced at Kasumi. “Trust me, until she has her toy, she won’t care.”  
The thief frowned.  
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you calling him a toy.”  
Miranda sighed, closing her eyes and biting into the sweet fruit again.

“It how _she_ treats him. I wouldn’t—” she shook her head, chewing on the flesh of the fruit for a bit and swallowed. “Never mind.” Focusing her attention at eating the fruit, Miranda continued. “That… ‘pureblood’ is even more powerful than you think, Nissea. You don’t want to cross her. Or disappoint her.” She glanced up at her. “She might check in from time to time, but she won’t care until you tell her what makes her happy. If she says let me go, you tell her it will be done and you let me know.”

Nissea stared at the table between them, her gaze absently trailing Miranda’s legs until they disappeared under the robe.  
“What if I don’t?”  
Miranda glanced at Kasumi and leaned forward, resting an elbow on her knee.  
“Nissea. Apart from being an accessory to kidnap and human trafficking, and taking part in trying to humiliate me, and then drugging me, I know you tried to be nice to me, too.”

The asari looked up into her eyes with a faint glint of hope in her eyes.  
“But if you don’t do as I tell you, my friend here will tip off your part in all this and frame you for the murder of… Jenita. I doubt you can get all the blood and DNA out of the upholstery of your car unless you burn it down. She will also lead them to the place where you will bury the body.” Nissea flinched, shrinking back into the couch.

“We may not be as powerful as Liara, but believe me, we can be a pain in the ass, too. If it wasn’t clear until now, you work for me now. If I call, you do what I tell you. If my friend here appears, you do what she tells you to do. With a little bit of luck, we will never see each other again. But we will keep an eye on you. Did I make myself clear?”

Nissea pondered about what she just heard, obviously running through the possibilities in her head. It was written on her face, that miserable expression when she realized that she was screwed either way. She let out a resigned sigh and nodded wordlessly.

Miranda finished the fruit, licked her fingers clean and stood up.  
“Good girl.”

She nodded at Kasumi, going to the clothes she scavenged. She dropped the bathrobe on the floor and leisurely put on panties, a sports bra and the patented leather pants. She ran her hands along her hip and thighs, feeling the way it fit her body almost perfectly. She was getting attached to this item of clothing.

Nissea watched sheepishly as Miranda finished dressing up, put her stuff in the bag, ignoring her presence, and then simply walked out the door. Only Kasumi turned back from the doorway, giving the asari a playful glance before putting on her hood pointedly and simply vanished.

* * *

Outside the apartment complex they made their way to the closest avenue. When Kasumi tried to say something, Miranda lifted a hand to silence her.  
“Just… wait. One more minute, please.” She called a cab on Jenita’s omnitool and shot a pleading glance at the thief.

Kasumi was curious enough to wait anyway, but apparently, there was even more to it than what she wanted to know. She flashed an all-knowing smile and waited silently, watching Miranda shift from one leg to another until the skycar landed.

They got in and Miranda called up the asari’s home address from her omnitool. She set it as a destination and as the skycar lifted up, she let out a long sigh and sunk into the chair, closing her eyes.

Kasumi squinted at her.  
“I was about to say you started to remind me of the old Lawson back there.”  
Miranda slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes closed and rubbing her head with one hand.  
“She had to buy it.”

“Well, if it was an act, I bought it, too,” the thief chuckled, looking out the windscreen.  
“I’m just so fucking tired,” Miranda sighed again. She forced her eyes open and blinked a few times, the moment of weakness gone, but Kasumi now knew that Miranda was just putting her game face back on, but she got a glimpse at the level of exhaustion behind the facade. “How did it go back there?”

Kasumi shrugged, picking up the real question.  
“Well, it was a lot of emotional farewells. I was with the others when I saw you had a new destination. I came as soon as I could get out of the goodbyes. Sentimental bunch.”  
Miranda chuckled softly.  
“I know. But they deserve it.”

Kasumi nodded and continued.  
“I figured out that you were in the club. Saw Liara leave, but I thought it would be too risky to go inside, so I waited. I thought I might sneak in after closing time.”

Miranda hummed in acknowledgment, staring out at the Nos Astra skyline.  
“So what do you want to do now?” Kasumi asked.  
“I need you to keep an eye on Nissea for a day or two and make sure she stays in line. After that, we can forget about her, I suppose.”  
“No, I meant… all this,” the thief waved her hands, encompassing Miranda and the city below them.

Miranda pursed her lips and shrugged.  
“Nothing. I disappear, and watch things from a distance, while dodging Cerberus, the Alliance and my father… and the Normandy, apparently.”  
“This is not right,” Kasumi sounded upset. “You have enough evidence to convince Shepard. All the audio logs, files… Why not go to him?”  
Miranda smiled sadly and turned her head towards Kasumi.

“I can’t. Not until I know Oriana will be safe. I can’t risk her life for foolish sentimentality.”  
Kasumi scoffed.  
“Being in love is a ‘foolish sentimentality’?”  
“It is, if you think about it. It’s wonderful, but I won’t sacrifice my sister over it. She’s all I have left.”  
“Yes, because the rest was taken from you. Doesn’t that make you mad?”  
“Not any more.”

“So that’s it? You give up?”  
“Not at all. I wouldn’t have collected all the evidence for that. No. I just need to wait for the right opportunity. Bide my time. Liara spent two years obsessing about bringing the Shadow Broker down, and apparently, over Shepard as well. I can be patient, too.”

“But you could get Oriana to safety. I could help with that, you know. By the time Liara realizes that she’s gone, there would be nothing she could do. Then you could go to Shepard.”

“I thought about that. But Oriana has a life. A family. She’s studying at a good university. If I take her away from that, she would lose everything, and we would have to be on the run, always. You know how that feels like. I worked hard to get her a normal life and I won’t let anything or anyone take it away from her.” Her last sentences were more of a threat, than a vow. If it came to Oriana, apparently it was Miranda Lawson versus the Galaxy.

Kasumi nodded, understanding. She was on the run all the time. She chose it and she enjoyed it, but she knew it was not for everyone. Miranda might be good on her own, but dragging somebody else into this life was very different. Kasumi could see how selfish it would be to possibly ruin her sister’s chances in life just so Miranda could be with Shepard and take petty revenge on Liara. Still, she had all the proof.

“I still think if you show this to Shepard, he would reject Liara, especially if she hurts your sister.”

Miranda put a gentle hand on Kasumi’s shoulder and smiled at her again.  
“Kasumi. I really appreciate your sympathy. I do. But I thought this through. And if you heard everything, you know she doesn’t care about others. If she loses Shepard, she will harm everybody involved, out of spite. It would be a mess and it would ruin any chance of us having a relationship, so ultimately she would still win. No. I’m a big girl. I can weather out the storm and make my move at the right time.”

“What if it will be too late?”  
“I will still have my sister. Maybe even have a part in her life, eventually.”  
“No, I mean what if he chooses her. What if you go to him and he is already happy with Liara.”  
Miranda turned her gaze towards the city lights, her hand absently fidgeting with the collar of the jacket she was wearing.

“If he is the man who I think he is, he will see through Liara’s games sooner or later. Maybe he hates me and moves on, but I have to believe he is smart enough not to be blinded by her.”  
“What if he is?”  
“Then I was wrong about him. Then he wouldn’t be worth fighting for.”

Kasumi pressed her lips together, frowning at the implications, staring out the window silently. She was pondering everything she knew from the records she listened to several times, the things Miranda went through so far and the things she would have to endure until she gets what she wants. It was overwhelming.  
“I want to be there when you take that bitch down,” she said fiercely, staring ahead.  
“You will be.” Miranda patted her hand. “Just take everything you have and all the stuff from today, make copies and keep them safe. One day, I will call and you will know what to do.”

Kasumi turned her head towards Miranda. That powerful Ice Queen was gone again, and she saw a very exhausted, frail woman in the other seat. And still, she was giving Kasumi an encouraging smile and squeezed her hand.

The skycar arrived at the destination, a more classy neighborhood with higher end housing. Miranda was getting ready to get out.  
“So what happens now?”  
Miranda shrugged. “I think I will enjoy the hospitality of Jenita’s apartment for a few days until I regroup and figure out my next step. Maybe I’ll keep paying the rent and make it a hideout for myself here. I don’t know.” She opened the door. “I will send over the rest of the files today.”

Kasumi nodded, pondering, while Miranda paid the fare with the asari’s omnitool. She hesitated, but as Miranda started to step out, she put a hand on her arm.

“Wait. I want to know.”  
“What?”  
“Why me?”  
Miranda smiled.  
“Which answer would you like to hear?”  
“Both.”

Miranda nodded, furrowing her brow.  
“Fair enough.” She paused for a second to collect her thoughts. “You were the most improbable person anybody would suspect that I would turn to for help. We have nothing in common, you are elusive, cannot be trusted, spying and stealing. Basically the exact opposite of me.” She flashed Kasumi an apologetic smile.

“But you also have the nerve and the attitude. You are curious. You would know what to do with a chance to eavesdrop on someone. And you know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave things lying around where you could find them.” Miranda chuckled. “If anybody would have the eyes to pick up the signals, it would be you.”

Kasumi smiled proudly. “It was so obvious.”  
“For you, yes. But not for anybody else.”

“And the other reason?”  
Miranda looked into her eyes, getting serious.  
“Because you would understand. You have… insight into other people’s lives. You know how it feels like to love someone, who made you from a survivor into a living person. Someone who, for the first time, made you feel alive. And then lose him.” Kasumi nodded quietly, blinking. “I know I could trust you with this, to discover a secret and keep it safe until it is needed.”

Kasumi nodded, her eyes getting foggy. Of course she knew. She took a good look at Miranda, the changes in her all the more noticeable now. Changes that happened because of Shepard, no doubt. As she looked at her, a sense of fear and sorrow came over her.  
“You will have a dark journey ahead of you, Miranda,” she declared, reaching out a hand. “I wish you all the best.”

Miranda smiled, took her hand and squeezed it gratefully.  
“Thank you. For everything.”

Kasumi nodded silently as the door closed and the skycar started to lift away from the landing platform, Miranda standing there terribly alone and tiny, watching the last familiar face, the last tie she had to her past drift away into the darkness of the night. Kasumi had the feeling, that maybe this was the last time she saw Miranda.


	4. Hide Your Daughters

Miranda was sitting at a café just outside the Illyria Spaceport on Elysium. It was a busy plaza on a warm, late spring day with plenty of sunshine and a warm breeze sweeping across the bright space. She was sipping a cold drink, hiding her eyes behind a pair of the latest fashioned sunglasses, enjoying the sunlight and the peaceful moment while she waited for the next batch of arrivals to leave the spaceport after clearing customs.

Although she looked relaxed, she was scanning the crowd alertly. She was quite sure she was safe for now, but a little caution went a long way, especially if she wanted to enjoy this short break from all the running.

The last few months were hectic, a long game of hide and seek ever since she left Illium. Cerberus was unusually active, which meant there was a bigger chance of bumping into them, and The Illusive Man was clear in their last communication. It was a pleasure to work with her; yes. He needed to contain the situation; sure.

At least the Alliance was not hunting her, but the bulletin was probably out in spaceports all over the place. According to the bursts of data she got from EDI, her name was barely even mentioned in the Normandy reports. Her status was unknown, her threat level downgraded to medium. It was almost insulting, but at least they didn’t mark her as an active threat. Shepard apparently wasn’t mad enough at Miranda to paint her in a bad light in his testimony.

Miranda was grateful for any tidbit of information that EDI provided, most of all because the AI did it at all. In her last days on the Normandy, she put together a few subroutines that exploited her almost unlimited access to EDI’s code thanks to her Cerberus security clearance. She had scripts running that parsed through all communications and filtered out anything that Miranda thought would be relevant, and sent it to her in random batches whenever the Normandy was communicating.

She also knew that EDI would discover the code eventually, and she could only hope that the AI would consider her short plea she hid in the code and the fact that she gave EDI some ideas how to disguise itself as a VI. Miranda hoped EDI would see the similarities in their situation and consider Miranda’s code as non-threatening. The fact that she received the information suggested that it worked.

Another group of people left the spaceport and Miranda pretended to drink her refreshment as she quickly searched the crowd. She didn’t have to look hard, the person she was waiting for was easy to spot. There she was, in all her tattooed glory, prowling like a feline owning the space around her, surrounded by a bunch of teenagers. Jack, the teacher.

She watched them approaching and noticed with amazement how Jack has changed, wearing a more decent outfit that hid significantly more than her old gear, but more skin than a respectful teacher should show, and if she was not mistaken, Jack decided to grow her hair back. It was a stark reminder of how her own fortunes changed, as she was sitting there with hair cut shorter to even out the damage done by the asaris. She dyed it red this month. She was also wearing the asari’s leather pants and boots like a trophy, and under the light jacket she only wore a tiny, short top that left her midriff naked.

Miranda sipped her drink with a straight face, only her eyes following Jack behind the cover of her sunglasses, pretending to ignore her as the biotic’s gaze passed over Miranda at first, then returned a few seconds later, still unable to place her. The biotic actually slowed down, cutting the conversation she was having with the kids and almost stumbled over one of them as recognition hit her on the third pass. She raised an eyebrow and a smirk spread on her face, involuntarily letting out a snort. That was enough for Miranda and she tore her gaze away, putting the drink down and enjoying the sunlight until she felt a shadow falling on her face.

“I fucking don’t believe my eyes,” Jack sneered, looking down at her.  
“Sit down, convict, you’re blocking the sun,” Miranda offered, nodding at the chair opposite her.  
Jack complied, dropping herself down into the chair, leaning back and she just stared at Miranda wordlessly with an incredulous look on her face and a grin that would not stop spreading.

Miranda glanced at her from the corner of her eyes but kept quiet, not really knowing what to say. This was as far as her plan brought her, and all she could come up with on the way was to improvise once she got here. She had to admit being a bit nervous about the meeting. She nodded at the waitress, signaling her to bring two of the same drink she was having.

“What?” Miranda asked finally, a bit colder than she intended. “You stare like a kid in a candy store.”

Jack pouted her lips, trying to keep herself from laughing.  
“I’m just… I like your hair, I guess.” Jack said, her eyes looking her over.   
Miranda touched her hair reflexively, trying to brush it behind her ear.   
“Likewise.”  
“You look like a trophy wife.”  
“Why thank you. You look half-decent, yourself.”

“Aren’t you risking a lot by coming here?” Jack tilted her head as she looked her over. Her expression remained cheerful, but Miranda could see her eyes turn serious. Once again, the biotic seemed to suspect something Miranda was trying to hide. She felt herself becoming self-conscious, subtly pulling herself straighter, more measured.

“Who would, in their right mind, suspect that Miranda Lawson would visit Jack, of all people?”

“Good point.” Jack laughed. She paused until the waiter put down their drinks, still sizing Miranda up. “So what brings you here… _visiting_ me?”

Miranda shrugged again, apparently becoming a habit of hers when Jack was around.  
“Let’s say I was in the neighbourhood. And bored. A little. I thought I’d drop by. Maybe to check out how you were coping with decent life.”

Jack sipped her drink, leaning back into the chair.  
“Right. You’re running from half the galaxy and you happen to come here. You are either getting sentimental and want to let off some steam, or you are really this desperate and have no one else to run to.”

Miranda sat up straighter, her expression getting darker. Jack was right, of course, but her bluntness caught Miranda off guard.   
“What if it’s both?”

Jack shrugged, downing the rest of the drink and putting the glass down with a sigh.  
“Fine with me, as long as you are straight about it.” She smirked, looking at Miranda’s chest. “Besides, you’re dressed to kill. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Miranda shot her a cold glance.  
“Charming.” She signalled the waitress and left a chit on the table, standing up a bit nervously. “I’m staying at the hotel nearby. You can tell me about the others on the way.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jack chuckled, standing up and following Miranda with the amused smirk permanently etched into her features. Even with the running and hiding and the “disguise”, the cheerleader could still pull off a commanding presence. Not to mention her assets. “Nice touch with the pants.”  
“Ha! I’ll tell you about it later.”

It turned out that Jack knew less about the Normandy crew than Miranda did. They both knew that Shepard was under arrest, pending trial for a non-existent incident he could not have been involved in, since technically he was not part of the Alliance at that time. It was nonsense to begin with, their only half-truth against him was his association with Cerberus. They apparently didn’t dare to call on Jack as a witness yet.

They reached the room without drawing much attention, which was a small feat in itself, considering their combined looks.

“I used your name for the reservation,” Miranda said to Jack casually in the elevator. “Actually reserved several rooms on different floors.”  
“You hacked my profile?”  
“Just for the identification. I paid with my own money.”  
“You have this kind of money?”  
“Well, money I ripped off from some investors on Bekenstein who thought I was still with Cerberus.”  
“Good girl.” Jack grinned as Miranda opened the door to the apartment.

Miranda strolled in straight to the bottle of cooled wine prepared on the living room table. She opened it and poured two glasses while Jack took a look around the apartment.  
“Well, apparently I’m fucking rich,” the biotic declared with a grin.  
“I reserved it for the week. You can stay here if you want.” Miranda said, offering a glass to Jack, getting more nervous by the minute.  
“No shit, really?!” the biotic grinned, looking around and walked up to the window to have a look at the view. “I could use a little luxury after Grissom…” She paused. “Wait, you’re not staying.”

“I have to leave tonight.” Miranda said quietly. “There are a few things I have to take care of. Remember, I’m on the run.”

“So this _is_ a pleasure visit—” Jack spun around and saw Miranda putting down her empty wineglass. The former Cerberus agent cast her eyes down and slipped the jacket off her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. The bra she was wearing under it was a fine piece, but showing off so much skin, coupled with that pants and boots was highly uncharacteristic of her. Jack almost froze, looking the woman over. It was a pleasant view, but something was not right. 

“I wanted to show you… this,” Miranda said, indicating her outfit. “Kasumi said that for a second she thought I was you.”  
Jack smiled at that. Under different circumstances, she would have laughed at that. She probably will, later.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked, her tone serious.

Miranda shrugged again, looking more and more like a sullen teenager, like the ones Jack needed to deal with at Grissom. Miranda poured herself another glass of wine. She walked closer to Jack and filled her glass, too, put the bottle down and only then did she look at Jack directly, lifting a hand to fidget with her hair.

“A couple of asaris wanted to grab me for a trafficking ring on Illium. They had a thing for hair.” She tore her gaze away and sipped her wine. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, it’s good disguise.”

“Right,” Jack nodded. She could believe that, but it was not the whole story. “Listen—” she started, but Miranda lifted a hand to her lips, stepping closer.

“Can we talk about this later?” she said quietly, avoiding Jack’s gaze until she finished. She lifted her glass for a toast. “Let’s celebrate instead. To Jack, the dependable. We are all proud of you.”

Jack grimaced, not happy about Miranda avoiding the subject, but she wasn’t going to push it. After all, she was not her therapist. Besides, she did look especially hot with the short, red hair and all that skin showing.  
“To Miranda, the uptight bitch, who told me to earn this,” Jack said, their glasses clicking and they drank.

Miranda bit her lip to hide a smile and leaned closer, breathing a kiss on Jack’s mouth, taking the wineglass away and blindly putting it aside on the small table by the window. This time she was more tentative, cautious, her controlled breathing hiding a deeper need and Jack couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. She kept her eyes open to see Miranda with lowered defenses.

This time Miranda wasn’t drunk and wasn’t baiting Jack into jumping her. Jack eventually took over, and they undressed each other in the breaks between kisses and gropes, not bothering to try and make it to the bedroom.

They weren’t exactly gentle, working up a little sweat as they wrestled around on the couch smoothly, jostling for temporary victories that ended in gasps and moans of pleasure. There was a certain desperation in Miranda’s moves as she longed for their bodies pressing together and giving up control just to feel Jack’s hands around her.

Afterwards, they laid next to each other on the couch for warmth and physical support until the rush left them and their breathing returned to normal.

“You know,” Jack mused, staring out the window, slipping a hand under her head to see better, “I can tell if somebody is messed up. Whatever you’re hiding, chances are I would be familiar with it.”

Miranda looked at her silently, not trying to deny or get upset about it. She blushed a little and furrowed her brow to control her emotions, but it would have been foolish to fake it with Jack.

“If you don’t talk about it with someone, it’ll fuck you up.” Jack paused, and laughed bittery. “If you start getting tattoos, you know you’re in deep shit.”

Miranda sat up, resting on her elbow and looked into Jack’s eyes as she spoke. 

“I understand, Jack.” She looked her over, observing those tattoos covering her firm, lean body. She could only imagine the stories they told. She got lost a little bit in the patterns, running a hand absently, tracing the ink from her perky breasts to her lap. “But I know what I’m doing… well, not right now, perhaps, but in general.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “And maybe, if we accidentally run into each other a few more times, eventually I will tell you about it.”

Jack reached and took Miranda’s hand, sliding it up to her stomach.  
“It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe it should be… him. Don’t you think?”  
Miranda sighed, sitting up, untangling their limbs and stood, strolling naked to the bottle of wine.  
“Were it that easy…”

Miranda poured again, drinking a few sips with a thoughtful expression. Jack reached for the whole bottle, but she remained lying down, watching Miranda’s dark silhouette against the bright window, the profile of her head as she gracefully lifted the glass to her lips and drank, her posture as measured as if they were in a posh restaurant.

Jack let out a quiet snort, thinking how strange this image was: a once powerful woman keeping up appearances by reflex, while getting more and more darker inside until it was hard to tell, what was going on inside her head.

Jack knew first hand what being on the run did to people, and she also knew what abuse looked like. She still didn’t know why Miranda broke up with Shepard or what happened, and she had no clue why Miranda came to her back on the Normandy. Maybe it was all related, and she was looking for somebody who went through the same things.

She kept watching silently as Miranda slowly dressed up, not ignoring Jack, just lost in her own thoughts. Jack didn’t mind anyway. Maybe Shepard, and to a certain degree Miranda put her on this path of becoming a decent person, but she was still not good at talking. Neither was Miranda and none of them wanted to ruin this moment with awkward words.

So Jack laid there, drinking wine from the bottle and watched Miranda going about. When she was ready, she looked at Jack, flashing her a faint smile. Jack just nodded reassuringly, catching the unspoken message, signaling, it was okay.

Miranda touched her shoulder with a grateful look and left, leaving Jack alone, naked in a hotel suite with a stuffed minibar and days on the bill. Jack sipped the wine, wondering if she should be offended that technically she just got “paid” for sex, but then shrugged and switched on the vids for background noise, while enjoying the view through the window. Maybe she won’t even get dressed until tomorrow.

* * * * *

When the Reapers hit Earth, Miranda was in a hospital on the Citadel. It was a familiar feeling for her at that point, being confined to a bed with the smell of disinfectant getting into her pores. She was staring into empty space with a resigned expression, doing absolutely nothing for miserable hour after miserable hour.

After her meeting with Jack, things started to go steadily downhill. She never actually got back to Elysium, figuring that she would only put Jack in danger. She didn’t want to draw attention to her by making unnecessary visits that could be picked up by Cerberus agents. If they would suspect that Miranda had something on Elysium, they would start looking. Jack was safe until she was on Grissom and the best Miranda could do was to avoid the place altogether.

Just like she had to avoid Illium to keep Oriana safe. The last time they were able to talk, she was still on the Normandy. She told her, that things were going to get difficult and they might not be able to talk for a while. Oriana understood.

She could not go to Earth either, especially since she found out that Liara went to Mars to study the prothean ruins there, with the permission from someone within the Alliance. Miranda doubted the asari was that much interested in the research and more likely she wanted to stay close to Shepard, who was still detained on Earth.

The noose was getting tighter around Miranda’s neck and she had to be more resourceful to stay alive. She hid on Omega for a week but it was disgusting, filthy, got unwanted attention from Aria and a bunch of traffickers who were already looking at her thinking how much she would fetch on the slave market. Besides, she was too out of the loop there and too far away from anything if she needed to act.

The first attempt on her life came when she was on Eden Prime, tracking Cerberus movements, leeching on their resources. She got made, and during the chase, she got shot down, her skycar crashing into a busy intersection in one of the arcologies. There were many witnesses, which probably saved her life and she was hospitalized as a road rage victim, with several broken ribs, fractures and bruises. She escaped from the hospital before the end of the week when somebody tried to kill her in her sleep. Even though she healed much faster than an average person, she was still hurting in a dozen different places when she left.

To top it off, someone broke into the room she was staying at, while she was in the hospital, tossing the place and taking everything valuable, including her datapads. Miranda was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and an omnitool. She spent several days in the ransacked apartment, living on half-spoiled food, unable to even clean up the place with her injuries and no painkillers.

It took her weeks to reach the spaceport, going one block at a time, while the planet was crawling with Cerberus agents. It was nerve-wrecking, a game of wits and patience, every yard gained a victory. She made it off in one piece, her ribs still aching and her body sore from sleeping in hallways and storage room floors, stealing food from vending machines. Later she found out that Cerberus was not there for her, she just had the exceptionally bad luck to be around when they were setting up a larger operation.

Miranda made it to the Citadel in the tourist section of a crowded passenger ship. She found a crappy little flat in the Zakera Wards and started to set herself up again, starting from scratch, recovering her info from the backups, picking up trails and burning through her secret stashes and remaining contacts. She slept irregularly, awake in the darkest hours, when there was a chance she could be attacked.

The next attempt on her life came in an elevator on the Presidium, where she thought she was relatively safe. One of the diplomats probably recognized her earlier, when she emptied a Cerberus dead drop location. She got a nasty stab wound in her thigh that nicked the femoral artery and it was by sheer luck and willpower, plus her active knowledge of anatomy and her biotics that she survived at all, keeping her leg in stasis until she could crawl to a public area and ask for help.

Luckily she could play the victim again, saying she was robbed. Her attacker was lying dead at the bottom of the elevator shaft, where she fell, thanks to Miranda’s last-ditch shockwave blast. In close quarters it was almost suicide to use it, but at least it sent both of them flying, Miranda in the right direction. C-Sec had yet to find the body.

So there she was, bed-ridden, with a throbbing, dull pain in her leg and some other pains from the bruises she got and she reflected on her many failures in the past six months. She already gave up the hope that her rent will be there when she gets out; the landlord will probably clear it out if looters don’t sack it first. At least she had time to upload all the important files to several servers all over the Citadel, so she could access them from her hospital bed.

When she thought it couldn’t get worse, news started to filter in about something happening on Earth and connections lost with dozens of colonies all over the galaxy. Miranda felt her anxiety rising, a rational measure of fear clenching her chest. As opposed to most of the politicians on the Citadel, she was very much aware of the Reaper threat. She fired up her omnitool and tapped into the hospital network, trying to get news from as many sources as possible. Mostly, though, she was concerned about Illium, but she knew the planet had strong defenses. Whenever the war gets there, there will be time for her to act. She wondered if maybe it was a safer place than the Citadel.

The first burst of data she got from EDI compiled feeds from all over Earth. It was heart-wrenching. Apparently, the Reapers attacked there with full force. The devastation was beyond belief, and Miranda found it hard to process it without losing her composure. She read the data with a hand clasped tightly over her mouth.

The next burst of data came soon after. Miranda had barely enough time to sort the previous batch out. The new files contained information about the Mars Archives, Cerberus signatures and Liara’s work. Apparently, the Normandy was on the move, Shepard in charge once again. Her heart started to beat faster. It sounded logical that Shepard would eventually come to the Citadel to speak to the Council. 

A miriad of options ran through her head, scenarios about what would happen if they met, how would it play out, what if she would “accidentally” bump into him somewhere on the Presidium. She tried to predict how Liara would react, if the asari would see it as a breach of their agreement. She could argue that she had nowhere left to run, or she could try to convince Liara to let her pick up Oriana and disappear, staying out of their way.

Miranda shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The trouble with Liara was that she was so unpredictable, that Miranda had no idea if the asari would throw a temper tantrum and order the hit on Oriana just out of spite, or give Miranda a ship and enough credits to disappear once and for all. Maybe they could hide somewhere and weather the war out in a safe place, or at least be together when the end comes…

She shook her head. One option was more pathetic than the other. Growing crops in a small, obscure colony somewhere was no way to live, at least not for them. Not for Miranda with all her skills and knowledge that could help fight the war, and not for Oriana, who should have the career she wanted and advance civilization, or something equally important. No, they cannot walk off the map, but nevertheless, Miranda _had to_ make sure Oriana will be okay.

Next morning, after only three hours of sleep, fresh data was waiting for her in her inbox. The Normandy was docked at the Citadel, but was scheduled to leave in a few hours. She wouldn’t make it there in time to talk to Shepard. She found out that Liara was on board and Ashley Williams was critically injured on Mars, being treated at Huerta Memorial Hospital, just a few districts away.

It seemed like a good idea to be in the same hospital where one of Shepard’s crew was treated, for the added safety it could possibly provide, and maybe the hope of running into Shepard by chance. She hacked into the hospital network, faking a transfer to Huerta for further physical therapy. 

It worked, and for the first time in a long while, she could catch up on some much needed sleep. Huerta was a busy place. It also meant less attention on Miranda, who could limp around with a crutch, blending in with the other patients, eavesdropping, getting a view for a change, raiding the terminals and getting new reading materials.

The next few days were quiet, no more info coming from EDI, but a lot of news about the Reapers appearing everywhere. The only thing Miranda could do was to keep herself updated and lie low. It would have worked, but as refugees and injured started coming in, they simply kicked her out of the hospital.

She tried to play the emotional card, saying she had nowhere to go, but all they could offer was to direct her to one of the refugee camps. Instead, she checked out her rented room, which was miraculously there, her rent still running. So she laid low again, healing, biding her time.

The quiet lasted exactly two days, when Oriana simply disappeared off Miranda’s radar. For the first day, she wasn’t worried. With all the interference caused by the Reaper invasion, it was harder to get reliable information from anywhere. She had several safeguards in place, and it took one more, tension-filled day, trapped in a small flat in the bowels of the Citadel, until she could be certain that something went wrong.

She had to do as much as possible before her growing panic threatened to engulf her. She had to leave the flat and disappear completely. From now on, it was going to be a different motel room every night.

Living in survival mode without decent sleep and still injured, however, quickly wore down her nerves. She did everything she could from the Citadel, but it was obvious she needed to get to Illium to pick up the tracks. She started to make plans to get a ship, calling in old favours and making threats if necessary.

She got desperate faster than she hoped and left a message in the Spectre office for Shepard, hoping that it was safe from eavesdropping, asking him to meet her. It didn’t help her anxiety, though, so she decided to go all in. Anything but the wait. She knew she was about to make a mistake, but the booster drugs she took to compensate for the lack of sleep and the drowsiness from the painkillers messed up even her above average biology. Adrenaline was rushing through her veins and with the only important person left in her life missing, she had nothing to lose and nobody to fear.

She broke into an abandoned office in the Embassies on the Presidium, tapping into the diplomatic comm channels to hide her signal and make it interesting enough for Liara to pick it up herself on the Normandy.

She took a deep breath and made the call, way past being nervous. The call connected and Liara appeared, flashing a fake smile until she realized who was on the other end of the line.

“Oh. Miranda. What a surprise.” She sneered with a disappointed face. “Did it take you this long to crawl out of that place?”  
“My sister is missing,” Miranda said, ignoring the asari’s jabs, skipping the formalities. “Do you have anything to do with that?”  
Liara glared back at her.

“You are a selfish little brat aren’t you? Your world is burning, Shepard is trying to save the galaxy and all you can think of is your damned clone!”  
“Yeah. Remind me to call you for a chat when they reach Thessia,” Miranda snarled.

Liara’s eyes flashed at that, dropping out of her mocking act for a few seconds.   
“At least I’m helping him fight the Reapers, while you hide like a rat and pine after your little sister.”  
“You sidelined me, Liara and made sure I can’t get involved. I could be helping you. And you dare to call me selfish.”

Liara recovered her composure, losing interest in Miranda’s comeback halfway through. She forced a smile back on her face, looking around.  
“Ah, I can see why you are mad now. You are jealous, right? You don’t like what I’ve done with your place, mmm?” The asari even leaned to the side to let the camera see the whole room.

Miranda felt a tiny bit of disappointment that Liara even got her old quarters on the Normandy, but it passed quickly. She couldn’t care less about it at the moment.  
“You inherited your taste from your grandfather,” she deadpanned, not even getting satisfaction from the hurt expression on Liara’s face. She pushed on, impatient. “What do you know about Oriana?”

Liara shrugged nonchalantly.  
“I don’t give a damn about your pathetic family. It wasn’t my people.”  
Miranda tried to control her rage, “You promised!”  
“I didn’t promise to protect her!” Liara complained, fending off the blame like a spoiled child. “I said I won’t harm her if you stay out of my way. What am I, a guardian or something?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you let me stay close to her!” Miranda hissed.  
Liara ignored the implications, making a bored face.  
“Well. What are you going to do.” She reached for the keyboard to cut the feed.

“Don’t you dare switching me off!” Miranda yelled. “You help me find her or I will go to Shepard and tell him about our little arrangement.”  
“Oooh, how mature. Princess runs to daddy to tell on the mean girl?” Liara mocked with an exaggerated tone.

“If you could stoop that low, I can do it, too.”  
“He won’t believe you,” Liara snarled.  
“He doesn’t have to. The doubt will be there.”  
“You have no proof!”  
“I can be very convincing. Dare to risk it?”

Liara pondered for a few seconds, staring at Miranda on the screen. She could see the determination on Miranda’s face, highlighted by her sunken cheeks and dark eyes. There was no trace of uncertainty in her cold, blue stare.

“What do you want?” she sneered.  
“I want to know everything that happened until she disappeared. Every fucking clue your people have about who took her. And I want a ship off the Citadel. I want to be on the way to Illium as fast as possible.”

She added that last bit to sweeten the deal for Liara. She wanted to leave, but not before she made preparations. It seemed to be working, though, she could see the asari considering it.  
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to my contacts and get back to you. Satisfied?”  
“A pleasure doing business with you, Shadow Broker,” Miranda snarled and cut the connection.

* * * * *

Miranda strolled up and down in the apartment nervously. She was waiting for Shepard, who got her message a few hours ago, when the Normandy returned, and confirmed that he would be dropping by. He didn’t say exactly when, but Miranda was already tense and checked the door every five minutes.

She blew most of her savings to rent an apartment on the Presidium, and spent some money to update her wardrobe and look decent. Her hair was back to its old length and colour, so apart from the weight loss and dark eyes, she looked almost the same as the last time they talked on the Normandy. 

She knew that she didn’t need to impress Shepard with a classy apartment and fancy clothing, she mostly did it for her own peace of mind. This might be the last time they could talk, she didn’t want it to happen in a dingy apartment. She didn’t need his pity either, and neither did she need him to think that she tried to manipulate him. Maybe enough time passed now that resentments were put behind them. Maybe they could move on. God knows, she needed that, because she was sick of the fear and the pain and the hardships she had to live with these past months. Still, it was important to make a good enough impression.

As she waited, she went through everything she wanted to talk about with Shepard. Liara kept her word and sent her a lot of data, that her agents dug up. It was overwhelming, very thorough and useful. She guessed that Liara did it out of professional pride, rather than guilt.

The information confirmed what she suspected: her father finally found Oriana and snatched her from her family with some false reasons. The moneytrail also proved that Cerberus was involved, although it was not yet clear, how. Miranda could guess that since Henry Lawson stopped funding Cerberus after Miranda ran away and joined the organization, now, that Miranda left them, Henry would make amends with The Illusive Man and they would start working together again. It had terrible implications, that made her anxious, and she still had a few more days left until she could leave the Citadel.

The door chimed and Miranda jumped nervously, quickly pulling herself together by the time it opened. And there he was, looking pretty much the same as she remembered, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He seemed to be tense, frustrated. Probably all the political bullshit he needed to deal with, Miranda thought. No matter how much she wanted to just talk about things to melt the ice, she knew it was probably too late to repair the damage. This was not the time for making amends.

“John. It’s so good to finally see you,” she offered quietly.  
“You too, Miranda,” he said mechanically. He seemed to be making an effort to stay polite.  
“About Earth… It must have been devastating.”  
“It was. Countless people lost their lives within minutes. The Reapers are everything we feared.”  
“They should have listened to you a long time ago.”

Shepard scoffed, waving a hand.  
“What about you? Where have you been?”  
“Running. You know. The Illusive Man doesn’t take rejection well.”  
“No. He doesn’t.” Shepard nodded. He kept his distance and Miranda stayed where she was, like a student reporting to a dreaded teacher.  
“What did you want to talk to me about, Miranda?”

Miranda almost winced. He went straight to the point as well, which hurt a little. Not surprising, but a bit painful.  
“My sister, Oriana is missing.”  
“Missing? I thought we made sure she was safe.”  
“We did. I kept close tabs on her, but recently, everything I had in place to make sure she was safe went dark.” She paused. She wanted to tell her about the attempts on her life, but it might come off as her feeling sorry for herself. It would be pathetic. “But with Cerberus on my trail, I couldn’t…”  
“What do you need from me?” Shepard asked, cutting her off. He was still patient and controlled. He was just not interested.

Miranda furrowed her brow, trying to hide her disappointment.  
“I know you have your hands full. I will handle it myself. But my father is involved. I’m afraid he works with Cerberus on something, but I don’t know what. And he took Oriana with him. I… I need access to Alliance resources. I can’t say any more. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Trust is a little hard to come by right now, Miranda.”  
Miranda nodded quickly, lips pressed thin. She deserved this, she thought, but it didn’t make it easier.   
“If you can’t tell me anything, I’m not taking resources away from the fight.” Shepard was getting more impatient now. She had to act fast.

“I can only tell you that I think my father is working on something for The Illusive Man. That’s why I need the resources. To find out if I’m right.”  
Shepard shook his head.  
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but that’s not enough.”

Miranda’s heart sank. Without proper access, she would be flying blind. She could probably track Henry down, but it would take longer and she wouldn’t know what was waiting for her at the end. It complicated things. It also meant, that Shepard didn’t trust her, and that made her cheeks burn with shame. She was getting a bit dizzy.  
“Fair enough. I was wrong to ask for help.”

Shepard didn’t respond, just folded his arms across his chest.  
“That’s the only thing you wanted to talk about?”

It was her turn to stay quiet. She wanted to say no, she wanted to scream it, and tell him everything. Tell him she was sorry and she never wanted this to happen but she had no choice. Here was the perfect opportunity. Oriana was out of Liara’s reach, she could come clean.

She cast her eyes down, turning away from him to look at the Presidium view.  
“I-I don’t want to distract you from the fight,” she managed to utter finally. She wished she could say more, but telling on Liara would not accomplish much at this point. He would either despise Miranda more for her scheming, or she would create more tension and distrust against Liara in a time when the Shadow Broker’s resources were needed as much as her scientific expertise. No, Liara was almost irreplaceable. Apparently, Miranda wasn’t.

No, the time was not right. Maybe after she got Oriana back and the war was over. If it’s not over, it wouldn’t matter anyway.  
“I just can’t think straight until I know Ori is safe.”

Shepard scoffed.  
“And here I was, thinking you had something else to say about us.” The disappointment in his voice was poison to Miranda’s heart. She didn’t dare to turn back yet, but she heard Shepard sitting down on the bed. At least he didn’t leave. “I need closure, Miranda. You need to give me at least that much.”  
“I thought- I thought we had that.”  
“When?! When you didn’t give me a good reason? Or was it that, when you f—slept with Jack just to rub it in my face. Is that it? Your reason for not telling me?”

Miranda was feeling the powers shifting in the room. Shepard was on the offensive, getting the stronger position in their argument and she could not reveal her cards without causing more damage, even if she wanted to. She had to stop this.

Shaking her head, she turned towards him.  
“If you are asking if I’m in love with Jack, then no. We’re not together. It was— It was just a fling. I was upset and drunk— and maybe a bit jealous at Jack for getting into Grissom.” 

She hoped it would sound convincing, but Shepard just shook his head.  
“That’s pretty lame, Miranda. If you realized that you were more attracted to women, you could have just said so.”  
“No, I—”  
“And if you were just upset, you could have gone to Jacob.”  
“Would it have made it less painful?” Miranda struck back, trying to edge out of the corner he was pushing her into. It worked, Shepard closed his mouth and shook his head with a sigh.  
“You are right. It wouldn’t have.”

Miranda lifted a hand to her chest, fiddled with her collar and hugged herself with her other hand to hide her nervousness a little bit. It seemed like some of the tension left him.  
“Give me one half-assed reason, then. Anything.”

Miranda raked her brain, trying to spin something that would diffuse the situation. She didn’t fare too well in the reasoning department back on the Normandy, which kind of helped make him mad at her, just as Liara wanted. But now they needed closure to move on.

She almost thought for too long because Shepard was glaring at her, ready to speak or leave.  
“I—I don’t know,” Miranda shrugged. “I am not good at being attached. It didn’t feel right. I thought that you and Liara—”

Shepard rolled his eyes, resting his forehead on his palm.  
“Unbelievable.”  
“Isn’t it true? That Liara and you were close?”  
“We were, but things changed. She became distant and I was—” he snorted. “Why the hell am I telling you this.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, but quickly straightened her face when he looked up at her.  
“So, you and Liara are not together now?”  
Shepard shot her an annoyed glance.  
“It is not the right time. We are kind of busy. Besides, she is— I respect her too much to ruin our friendship.”

Miranda had to contain her laughter. Oh, the scheming asari overplayed her role. This was almost too good to be true. On the other hand, it bothered her even more, that she was forced to give him up for nothing. She managed a polite nod.  
“I see.”

Shepard stood up and stepped closer to Miranda. She watched him cautiously, unable to read him any more. He was still hurt, that much was certain, but still trying to be reasonable. He shook his head again in bewilderment.  
“Look, Miranda,” he sighed, reaching a hand to touch her shoulder. She almost jumped. It was so long ago that he touched her. “We’re both under so much pressure to be perfect, we never give ourselves a break.”

Miranda felt confused. How could he still believe in her?  
“We can’t give ourselves a break. There’s too much at stake,” Miranda blurted out, unconvinced, her voice trembling.

Shepard nodded.  
“Still. Have you ever wondered, what it could have been?”

 _Every single day,_ she thought. At least she used to think about it at first, but lately, she was too busy running for her life to torture herself with it before going to sleep. Still, it took all her willpower not to whimper and fall into his arms. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, though.

“It’s better not to delve in such thoughts,” she managed. Clearly not the answer Shepard was looking for.

“I see. Then how about this,” he kept his hand resting on her shoulder, his voice pleasantly deep. “If you have attachment issues, we could still try and close this— us on a bit more positive note. Just simple, casual intimacy, for old times sake. Just to let out all the tension and say our goodbyes.”

Miranda’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. A good-bye fuck? Really? She was trying to determine if he was mocking her or baiting her, but by that time, she was totally lost, her head swimming and her eyes fogging up. It was almost too much, his voice, his touch too intense, his persuasive tone filling her head. The memory of his touches—

This is a big mistake, her mind warned her.  
“Yes, it would be good,” her mouth whispered. “But it has to stay between us.”

Shepard closed his eyes, nodding slowly and reached up with his other hand to her other shoulder. He pulled her and she fell, holding onto his chest while he leaned into the curve of her neck and kissed her skin. This was all it took for Miranda to come undone.

She let her head drop back, gripped his shoulder for support and let the warmth from his lips wash over her. She tried to control her breathing while he played her like an instrument, peeling her out of her clothes easily. She clawed at his t-shirt, helping him pull it over his head and they took a few stumbling steps towards the bed.

She was already free of most of her clothes, only her panties remained, while he still kept his pants on. She didn’t really care, she could barely see, her eyes unfocused from the rush of pleasure. Sure, Jack also knew what she was doing, but Shepard was stronger, a bunch of well-developed muscles and body mass, firm, hard to grasp but so good to hold onto. It felt safe in his arms, knowing that they could also crush her.

Miranda was panting into his chest, soaking in the feel of him that she missed so much, the caressing of his palms as they cupped her breasts, his eager moves, his thirsty kisses on her chest and neck, his hands hungry for her flesh. She missed it so much and she wanted to get enough to last long after they had to part, that at first she didn’t even notice his trembling, didn’t feel his squeezes becoming stronger.

She wanted to believe that he was missing her, too, and he lost himself in her as much as she did in him. When he squeezed her buttocks hard she hissed, finding it pleasant at first. She was not interested in gentleness anyway.

When he bit into her neck harder, she jerked, but credited it to getting carried away. It can happen.

When he grabbed her panties on her ass and crumpled the fabric in his fists, she squirmed, trying to ease the discomfort that she still believed was caused involuntarily. He was just too excited, after probably months of abstinence. If Liara couldn’t get this close to him, he must have been quite wound up.

When the fabric of the panties cut into the flesh between her thighs, she groaned. She felt the chafing and it was starting to turn her off. She realized that she was trapped, his arms firmly around her, his shoulders above hers, her breasts pressed down between their bodies.  
And yet, she didn’t dare to utter a word, not to break the moment, not to push him away. A little discomfort was nothing compared to the time they spent apart.

She felt his muscles clenching, his whole body tightening. Miranda hissed again in pain and gasped as her panties tore on her waist and he swiftly yanked it free, bruising more of her inner thighs. She held onto him, a bit surprised, but still ready to continue, hoping this was the last of the clumsiness. She kept quiet, feeling his muscles roll in his arms where she was clinging to him.

By the time she realized this was not right, it was already too late. Shepard grabbed her ass hard, sinking his fingers into her muscles, forcing her on her tiptoes. He growled into her neck and with a twist of his torso he threw her on the bed, making her yelp in fear. Maybe this was it, Miranda thought hopefully, he would concentrate more on her body, now that all obstacles were removed.

Shepard only stopped to unbutton his pants before diving after her, Miranda throwing up her arms in defense by reflex. He swatted them away, grabbing her wrists roughly and pinning her down.  
Miranda whimpered, trying to look into his eyes. She should have said something, making him stop, or asking him to take it easy, but she saw how worked up he was. She was afraid that if she would say something now, it would be over, or she would make him more angry.

He probably wouldn’t listen, Miranda thought as he bit down around one of her nipples that made her twitch from the pain, feeling his teeth, feeling his tongue rapidly lapping at her nipple. Miranda gasped in pain again, holding onto his arms, trying to choke down the rising panic. It must be her exhaustion and the paranoia, she told herself. It couldn’t be him.

She yelped fearfully when he moved to her other breast, squirming harder now. The rush of pleasure she felt before was quickly vanishing, and dread started creeping in to build up the pressure in her chest. It seemed like he was getting rougher, but she couldn’t just possibly let him do that, when he was hurting her—

Still, all she could manage was a whimper when his lips travelled around her curves and he nibbled at her neck, the promise of biting her there now more threatening than exciting.

Shepard stopped, towering over her, pinning her wrists down next to her head. He looked her over, panting, his eyes clouded by lust or by rage, she couldn’t tell. It did make her shiver and fear returned with a rush, dragging with her all the bad memories. That wall in her mind threatened to collapse when she needed her strength the most.

She forced a smile on her face, trying to be reassuring and calm and wondered if she could do or say anything at all that would stop him. She wasn’t this scared and speechless with a man since–

He attacked her with such ferocity, she held her breath back. His lips pressed against hers and she let him in, too afraid to fight him. He was growling, even her passivity seemed to infuriate him. He squeezed her wrists hard while he kissed and bit her shoulder, her chest, her ribs, making her cry out but she didn’t dare to pull away.

He let go of her wrists and grabbed her jaw with one hand, to force her to face him. His left hand slipped between their laps.  
“It’s been so long, Miranda,” he breathed, his voice laced with lust, his half-closed eyes more predatory than needy.

She just stared back with a pleading glance, her whole body shivering. She gasped and moaned in pain as he entered her with a firm jerk of his hips, unable to speak, trying to get more comfortable as he rocked his hips. Her voice got thinner and thinner, her arms and legs feeling numb from the fear with every painful thrust, feeling like he grew larger inside her with every move. 

She tried to find her voice, but the realization blocked her mind. She stared incredulously into his unforgiving eyes, and it just hurt her more, seeing in them that he knew what he was doing. Not only that, but she felt that he knew that she didn’t dare to stop him. He didn’t care, as long as he sunk deep enough. He let go of her jaw and grabbed her wrist again, settling into a steady rhythm. 

Miranda didn’t feel much by then, apart from the numbing pain in her sex. The terror already seized her and she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think straight. It was just that feeling between her legs, that face above her, that body pinning her down, and that dark, dark stare. She tried to form words, ending up with moans of discomfort as she felt the pressure of his hardness sinking into her, until she couldn’t see anything from the tears. She turned her head away, staring into empty space, her hair hiding her cheeks like a thin veil after a while as he moved in and out, faster and faster. She only felt it when an eager thrust hit her deepest parts and sent a sharp pain along her spine. Her voice gone, the only sounds in the room were Shepard’s quiet grunts and their laps slamming together.

Miranda lost her sense of time, she barely registered the warmth, that spread on her belly when he released, kneeling over her. She only saw the blurry spots of the coffee table and the couch behind it. Every sound was muffled and the world narrowed down to a tiny bubble around her. Her body reflexively curled up, grasping the blanket between her knees and clutching it with her hands, shivering.

He said something, leaning over her, but she couldn’t make out the words. She just wanted to be left alone.

Hours passed, or maybe just minutes. Or maybe a day. She didn’t know how long she was catatonic, but when her consciousness returned with a rush that made her gasp and almost choke with pain, she wished she was still out. Sobs were erupting from her with such force that she could hardly breathe between them. The walls crumbled, finally, and they swept her mind away. She could finally cry. She just wished she could stop it now.

* * * * *

Jack strolled out of the Alliance quarters on the Citadel with a lot of things on her mind. Her head was buzzing with all the shit that happened in the last few weeks. After settling into a life of teaching at Grissom, there came the news of the Reaper invasion. Then they were attacked not by the squids, but fucking Cerberus! Again!

They were damn lucky that Shepard somehow got there in time and saved their asses. There were a few awkward moments, some shouted words about Cerberus, but it seemed Shepard still had a stick up his—a thorn in his side about catching her with Miranda on the Normandy. With a little more yelling, she convinced him to assign her students to support roles and not to the frontlines. It could have been a disaster.

They got temporary accommodations on the Citadel to have a rest and regroup before shipping out to one of the human worlds to help the troops. Suddenly, she was dealing with rosters, schedules and supplies instead of getting piss drunk in a fancy bar on the Citadel.

She just got the orders that they were shipping out in a few hours. She gathered her students and sent them to the docks while she handled some last minute bureaucratic shit. With her navy bag thrown over her shoulder, she was leaving the Alliance building, when she noticed someone sitting on a bench at the edge of the plaza, near the entrance.

It was oddly familiar and yet, very strange. She frowned, slowing down her steps and narrowing her eyes. What she saw, didn’t make sense. It was Miranda Lawson, all right, waiting for her, again, only this time, she didn’t bother with disguise. The former Cerberus second-in-command, sitting right in front of the goddamned Alliance, in full view, looking very much like her image on the bulletins.

Still, nobody would have recognized her. Jack was uncertain, too, even when she got closer. Had they not met on Elysium, she would have walked right past her. This Miranda had a vacant stare, her back hunched, her shoulders sank, sitting on the bench like a drug addict, clasping her hands between her knees. Her hair was a mess, her eyes dull, sunken.

Jack almost reeled back from the ghastly sight.  
“Cheerleader?” she asked, uncertain.  
Miranda didn’t reply, only a tiny movement of her eyes signaled that she acknowledge Jack’s presence. She kept quiet while Jack hesitated. The biotic finally decided to sit down next to her slowly, unable to tear her gaze away from Miranda’s face. She knew that expression very well.  
“What happened?”

Miranda shot a glance at her, before returning to staring straight ahead.  
“My sister. Oriana. Oriana Lawson. She will be twenty this year. Earth year, I mean. Almost the same age as your students.” She sniffed, rubbed her nose with the back of her hand then clasped it between her knees again. “She looks almost like me when I was twenty. Except the hair. And the smile. She’s a very open personality. Easy to like.”

Jack shook her head. Miranda was blabbering, speaking fast and in a flat tone, like she was reciting from memory.  
“Closer to your age. But anyway. You are good with your students. I know. I’m happy you got out of Grissom safely. I couldn’t visit. Too many assassins on my tail.”  
“Miranda, slow down. What is it?” Jack asked patiently. “What happened?”

Miranda glared at her from the corner of her eyes and laughed bitterly.  
“What happened? Shit. Shit happened. Shit happens. All the time.” She let out a sigh and focused ahead again, fighting a shudder, taking a deep breath to focus. “Oriana, my sister, is gone. My father took her. I don’t know where and why. I have to find her, you understand? I have to!”

“Take it easy, cheerleader. What are you trying to say? Why are you here?”  
Miranda stared straight into her eyes.   
“I am not a cheerleader.” She said sullenly, but her glare was sharp and angry. “My father is working with Cerberus. He has my sister. I have to find her. How is this complicated?”

Jack shook her head. This was seriously messed up, Lawson was seriously messed up. Was it the grief? Or the stress of hiding from Cerberus? That still didn’t explain her eyes.  
“Okay. Tell me what do you need?” Jack said soothingly. She was picking up on some psychology stuff, that was apparently useful when one was a teacher. Maybe it would work on Miranda, too.

“I am going to get her back.” Miranda hissed. It was a threat. “I am going to stop running and get her back. I want you to know.”  
“What, for fuck’s sake? What do you want me to know?”

Miranda looked at her again with an annoyed stare, like she was talking to an idiot.  
“Everything. I want you to know everything. I promised I would tell. Not now, but after...”

“Jesus Christ, this makes no fucking sense.”

Miranda snorted, standing up, one hand fidgeting with her suit’s collar.   
“It will. Believe me.” She started to walk away, but stopped after a few steps, shifting hesitantly from one feet to another. She slowly turned towards Jack who was just standing up. Avoiding to look into her eyes, she spoke before Jack could say anything.  
“I am sorry. That’s what I wanted to tell. I called you a mistake. I meant…” She shook her head with eyes closed. “Never mind.” 

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look into Jack’s eyes. Jack could see absolutely nothing in those blue eyes. 

“I am sorry.” She giggled nervously. “It was a mistake. Thank you for everything.”

And then she turned on her heels and actually ran away. Jack stood there and she didn’t know what happened. She did know, however, what that haunted look meant. Maybe she should have stopped Miranda and got her some help, but she knew that drive. She would do everything for her students, too and wouldn’t let anybody stop her, either.

But one thing she knew with almost complete certainty: the woman she saw was not Miranda Lawson any more.


	5. A Sanctuary For All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For the first half of this chapter, I had this picture open in another window:  
> http://patryk-garrett.deviantart.com/art/Mass-Effect-3-Miranda-193679655

The tiny ship slipped out of of the mass relay jump and slowed down to cruising speed, setting an elliptical course to Horizon on the opposing side of the sun relative to the relay’s orbit. The scout ship has seen better days, but it was spaceworthy and had enough room for a four person crew, which was more than enough for Miranda. She stacked it up with supplies for six, converting one set of bunks into more storage. She only planned for two passengers anyway.

It was a dingy old craft, one of the first line of exploring vessels, which saw a lot of rebuilds. She didn’t mind the loose wirings or hanging panels, though. It became her home for the last few weeks, and she got more attached to it than to her quarters on the Normandy. She felt safe here, in control. Outside, it was a dangerous world.

She had to admit, that she didn’t sleep well, even in her little safe haven. Whenever she could fall asleep, many times she would wake up, sweating and gasping for air, from one of two dreams that battled for dominance over her subconscious. In one, she saw Henry, holding Oriana in front of him, her body limp and bloody, full of cuts, wires hanging from her wounds and circuits covering her skin. When she woke up from that, she became anxious, restless, thinking about the worst things that Henry could have done. It took her so much time to trace his steps from Illium to Horizon; every day she didn’t make progress, she cried from the frustration.

The other dream was more treacherous, because she could never tell if it was real until she woke up screaming. It involved Shepard, sneaking into her quarters in the night while she slept. He clasped his hand over her mouth, pinning her down on the bed and tore off her clothes while she struggled. Sometimes she could see Liara in the background, smirking. She never managed to wake up before he started to violate her. It sent her into a sobbing fit, and going back to sleep was out of the question after that.

She had to admit that she cried a lot these days.

In those waking hours she walked around with a permanent, distant expression etched on her face, while she perfected the ship’s safety and security measures. It was keyed to hers and Oriana’s DNA, voice, prints, and their needs. They could survive in there for quite a while.

If not working on the ship, she made an effort to look decent enough and worked on her other project, recording a set of messages and logs, documenting her journey. Obviously she made backups and left them at safe places on more than one world.

She tried to stay busy, to keep her demons at bay, who seemed to roam free in her mind if she was too idle, ever since… well, since then. She hoped it would all be over before she would start to argue with imaginary people and see ghosts on the ship. She was careful with self-medication, only taking drugs to keep herself sharp, nothing that would dull her mind. That meant no anti-depressants or sleeping pills. That meant enduring her demons.

When there was nothing to do, she sat down in a little nook just behind the cockpit in the dim corridor, where she could lean her back against the bulkhead and reflect on her road so far. Whenever she stayed on the ship, which was almost every time, even when docked on a planet or space station, since she did not trust hotels or any public building any more, she ended up here in her small shorts and a tank-top, her new “uniform” as she called it. When she left the ship, she disguised herself as the still fearsome Miranda Lawson, getting all the information she needed. She wasn’t forgiving or compassionate when anybody tried to stall her or hold back on her. Dead bodies and broken bones marked her path from Illium to the Iera System. She predicted the pattern would follow when she lands on Horizon.

But on the ship, she felt more comfortable in the shorts and top only. It had a calming effect on her, when she was alone in the confined space of her ship. It should have felt like a prison, claustrophobic, where she locked herself in voluntarily, but instead she found it comforting, cozy. She had the opportunity to sort out the mess in her head. Like a walkabout.

The balance was simple; she ended up with nobody around her, nobody missing her and nobody who could harm her or whom she could inadvertently harm. She found it a pretty fitting allegory, that she was locked in a small container, adrift in endless space. She almost liked it when she was on the move. Gradually, she made peace with her fate.

She also came to the conclusion that it was all her fault. Yes, Liara may have been infatuated with Shepard and was immature about it, but she was right: Miranda did steal him away from her. She put her own happiness ahead of Shepard’s and Liara’s. She had to realize she was selfish all her life: thinking only about her sister instead of others, believing the lie of Cerberus about advancing humanity, when she was smart enough that she should have known better.

And then, her final sin was falling for Shepard and letting him think that it meant something. Not only that, but she, in a moment of selfish weakness, let him talk her into one last goodbye sex, when she should have stayed strong and not give him false hope.

Yes. All-in-all, she deserved what she got. She didn’t learn the lesson from Liara, but that was because Liara said the wrong reasons. She was weak and ran to Jack on Elysium, which was a very selfish thing to do again, not fair to Shepard and to Jack. Although Shepard probably didn’t know about that, she deserved to be punished for that, too.

Finally she learned the lesson, though, Shepard, of course, had it right. That’s why she needed to make amends, starting with apologising to Jack.

There was a tiny, faint voice in the back of her mind that doubted the basis of her whole reasoning, some speck of rationality arguing, that while the conclusion was logically drawn, the premise was faulty. That she had the right to be weak from time to time. That she didn’t have to be perfect. Fortunately, Miranda learned to ignore these voices. These were the thoughts that lead to her downfall. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

The autopilot beeped, signaling the three hour warning before entering the atmosphere. It meant, that in two hours she needed to start the pre-entry checks.

Miranda sighed, her eyes focusing back into her reality, to the present. She had a few more messages to record, that she delayed until the last possible moment. She didn’t look forward to them, but she needed to get them done. She needed to be thorough.

* * * * *

Nothing prepared her for what was waiting on Horizon. She heard about Sanctuary from countless sources during her search, refugees whispering about it hopefully, flocking there in great numbers, or desperately trying to get there. Miranda didn’t have the heart to tell them, that no world was safe from the Reapers. She saw too much during the fight with the Collectors to have such false hope.

But the reality of the Sanctuary was as shocking as those images of the invasion on Earth. Even when she landed, she could see that something was not right. It was too quiet, and the communication panel in the cockpit also showed strange readings. She didn’t receive any pingback from the orbiting satellites and stations.

Inside it became clear that something horrible happened, signs of rioting and firefights were everywhere. She wished she knew what she was getting into. She felt utterly ill-prepared and under-armed for this. Still, every clue and signal told her that Oriana was around here. She marched forward.

Once she managed to get into the Sanctuary arcology, she had to be more careful, try to stay out of sight. She could see Cerberus troops moving about, patrolling, subduing anybody trying to fight back or escape.

Getting deeper inside the complex, it was like entering new layers of hell. With a little bit of luck and lots of patience, she snuck past guards, turrets and sensors, stealing entry cards or hacking terminals. It took her hours to reach levels which normally would have taken her minutes to walk to.

She was gradually losing this game of hide and seek with the troops when, predictably, the Reaper invasion arrived, creating enough stir and chaos in the ranks that she could move a bit easier. It also meant that she had only as much time to find her sister and get out, as it took the Reapers to overwhelm the defenses. Knowing Cerberus, they would pull out as soon as they got what they wanted.

And she had a pretty good idea what they were after, as accessing terminals revealed her father’s plans. The scientist in Miranda knew what to do: document everything and get the word out. She recorded a message and tapped into the communications to spread it planetwise. She also needed to disable the scrambler, while leaving logs, like a trail of breadcrumbs, through the facility that explained the twisted plans of Henry Lawson.

After a while, she was unable to avoid confrontation, caught between the two forces, both attacking her on sight. She managed to get away from them with only a few scrapes and bruises, but it was enough to slow her down. She was running out of time and strength, while they could ambush her around every corner. Finally she locked down most of the facility, trapping many of the battling forces inside. She hoped they would thin each other out by the time she had to deal with them.

She was almost at the communications tower, getting very close to catching up with her father. She could track his moves and she was relieved to see that Oriana was alive and well, dragged along with him. She was so close—

—the ceiling hatch in the lab burst open and a blurry figure dropped to the ground, too quick for Miranda to react. She staggered backwards and fell, quickly scrambling to her feet and turning towards her latest attacker. She froze.  
“You!” she gasped, recognizing Kai Leng. In that one second it took for the assassin to leap forward, she realized her fatal mistake. She underestimated Cerberus. She was too preoccupied with finding her sister that she forgot to read the signs. She also made the mistake of thinking Kai Leng was gone. She knew it was over, then.

The short blade pierced her side, rupturing her kidney as it passed through, emerging out her back. She let out a painful groan, grabbing Kai Leng’s chest with both hands as she fell against him, the strength running out of her legs and the pain blinding her for a few seconds.

Kai Leng slowly let her sank to her knees, following her, letting her hang onto him as he leaned close to her ear.  
“The Illusive Man sends his regards.” He growled, and yanked the blade free, making Miranda gasp in pain again, eyes opening wide and staring at him incredulously. She clawed at his chestplate as he slowly stood up, stepping back with a smirk. He lifted his sword for a deadly strike as Miranda fell forward.

An explosion rocked the structure, sounds of battle filtering in from close by. Enemies were getting closer. Kai Leng took one quick glance at her and with a disdained snort, he slipped out the door.

Miranda was on her hands and knees, staring at the floor as she tried to blink the tears of pain from her eyes. She pressed a hand to her wound to stop the bleeding, but of course it was not enough. She felt warm blood soak her suit and her palm, already dripping out between her fingers. She wheezed, gasping for air, her mind desperately trying to assess the situation and calculate odds. It was much harder with the searing pain in her side.

She realized what this meant and she let out a desperate sob, trying to find some strength. She was so close! She can’t stop now! _God, just a little more strength, please!_ She forced herself to stop crying and blinked the tears out of her eyes.

She made it to the door on her hands and knees and pulled herself standing with one hand. Grabbing her pistol she opened the door and staggered out into the corridor. Kai Leng was long gone.

Somehow she reached the main door, but she had trouble retracing her steps from the moment she stood up. She was dizzy, and started shivering from the blood loss. _Just a little more time!_ she screamed in her head as the door opened.

And there he was, spinning around, Henry Lawson, a man she hadn’t seen in twenty years, holding her younger self by the arm, yanking her before him for cover. Miranda tried to raise her gun, gritting her teeth and snarling, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Ah, the prodigal child returns,” Henry sneered. There was no trace of fatherly compassion in his voice. “How fitting.”

“Let. Her. Go.” Miranda growled, feeling her eyelids getting heavy. She struggled to keep them open and point the gun at him. It was useless, though, she couldn’t aim straight in her condition. She noticed blood on his arm, trickling from a nasty wound. It wasn’t completely hopeless, Miranda thought.

Oriana glared at her in fear and bewilderment, whispering Miranda’s name in surprise, her face pale, but otherwise she seemed to be unharmed.

“Now why would I do that? We should rejoice. A family reunion, at last! You have no idea how much I missed your sister. You, too, but for different reasons.”

“Just. Let. Her. Go.” Miranda repeated. Her world was slowly collapsing on itself, shrinking to this single room with the two people in it, who defined and controlled her entire life. There was only a tiny period, a couple of months, when her existence was not about them, but about herself, a glimpse of a world where she was content and living her own life. It seemed so ridiculous now.

Henry was telling something, but the sounds were getting muffled, and all she could see was the desperation on Oriana’s face as she was looking at her. Judging by her stare, Miranda knew she wasn’t worried about herself.

Miranda licked her dry lips, planning to repeat her mantra again, when her legs gave up and she fell to her knees, groaning in pain and frustration. She would fail at only inches from her goal. It was not fair.

Sounds returned suddenly as the door burst open and people were pouring in. She lifted her head towards the noise. Of course. It was Shepard, his crew behind him, guns at the ready. The cavalry, for once in her life, coming in time for the rescue.  
“Shepard!” she gasped.  
“Commander Shepard.” Henry snarled. “Excellent timing.”

Shepard was approaching with a raised gun, a burly marine with tattoos circling to the left and Garrus edging to the right.  
“Put the gun down.” Shepard warned with a surprising amount of aggression in his voice.  
“No! Oriana tried to shoot me. Miranda’s poisonous influence, no doubt.”  
“I’m sorry she missed. Where’s Kai Leng?”  
“I don’t know. Gone. He took my research and left us here to die.”

Shepard looked to the side, checking on Miranda.  
“Miranda. Can you hear me?”  
She couldn’t reply, but she leaned on a table next to her and with superhuman strength she stood up. She had to show it to them. Both of them.  
“That’s close enough! Both of you!” Henry yelled, lifting the gun and pointing at them from behind Oriana. “Kai Leng didn’t finish the job but I will.”

“This ends here,” Shepard hissed threateningly.  
“On the contrary. Now that the Reapers are taken care of, we have a way out.” Henry lectured quite confidently. Shepard was apparently not interested.  
“Let her go.” He warned, raising his voice. Shepard’s crew spread out, covering him from every possible angle. There was no way out for Henry Lawson.

“Shepard…” Miranda groaned. “Don’t let him take her,” she begged. Whatever happened between them, she could only hope that he would protect her sister.

Shepard shot a glance at her. He heard her all right, but he didn’t need her reminder to push this. There was a seething rage in his eyes. He was boiling even before he stepped into the room.

“You try to leave with her, you die.” He declared, presenting it as a plain fact to a particularly stupid opponent. “Let her go and maybe you walk.”  
“I’ve done nothing to you!” Henry shouted back, shifting behind his daughter.

Oriana kept her eyes on Miranda, ignoring the exchange completely. Miranda looked into her eyes and saw the sorrow in them.

“This isn’t about you and me.” Shepard hissed, raising his voice. “Let her go and walk away. I won’t say it again!”

There was a moment of silence in the room. Three guns were pointing at Henry Lawson, and he must have seen no mercy in their eyes, because after a few more heartbeats, his hands started to tremble. Shepard had this effect on people.  
“All right. Take her.” He snarled, throwing Oriana to the ground. “But I want out alive. Deal?”

Miranda, however, was not negotiating. Seeing her opportunity, she gathered her remaining strength and put thirty years of anger and frustration into one huge biotic blast that slammed Henry Lawson into the five inch thick, cracked glass, pulverizing his spine while the mass effect field shattered the glass behind him. He fell screaming into his death below.

“No deal,” she hissed.

It was over. It was done, Henry was dead and with it, her life was complete, too. She felt something tear inside her when she hurled that blast, and she collapsed with the pain that radiated through her torso.

She heard Oriana scream her name and then she was next to her, rolling her onto her back, tears streaming down her face, trying to pull her into her lap.  
“Miranda… I’m sorry…”

Miranda took a deep breath. It felt different, somehow, like a gigantic weight was lifted from her. She felt light. She tried hard to focus on Oriana’s lovely face and smiled.

“Shh, listen to me… listen. I wanted you to have a normal life... Marriage, children. Things I could never have.” She pressed the words out with great effort, hanging onto her gaze. Her arms felt so warm around her. She was fading fast.

“I know. I just wanted my sister.”

Miranda let out an exhausted sigh, closing her eyes for a second. All was well. Oriana will have a life. Tears were streaming down her face, and she saw them on Oriana’s cheeks, too. She felt sorry. She felt sorry that Oriana had to see all this, that she had to see their father responsible for all the horrors, had to see Miranda like this, that she will have to live with these memories from now on. And she felt sorry for herself. She would have wanted to see what Oriana could achieve. It would have been nice to have a life.

“I love you, Ori.” That was all she could manage, pouring all her remaining thoughts into that simple sentence.  
“I love you, too.”

Miranda felt a shadow on her right, Shepard kneeling down next to her with terrible pain in his eyes. They all gathered around them, and she saw Liara approaching hesitantly, standing behind Shepard with a haunted expression. He reached towards her, but Miranda whimpered and tried to pull away, deeper into Oriana’s embrace. The shock and hurt flashing in his eyes made her heart wrench.

Crying openly now, she held his stare. She was mourning what could have been their lives together, but there was nothing she could say now to absolve him. She wasn’t finished just yet either. She was breathing harder now, every movement an enormous effort, her own bones feeling heavy, crushing her chest. She scrambled for her belt and detached a tracker from it, that slipped from her trembling fingers and fell on the floor between them.

“Before… Kai Leng… left… planted… tracer on him.”  
Shepard slowly looked down at the tracker and lifted it up like it was the most delicate thing in the universe.  
“A tracer? You thought of everything…”

Miranda blinked, clinging onto Oriana’s arms while she took another harrowing breath. She wanted to deliver her closing argument. She even managed a short glance at Liara, who looked genuinely shaken and was watching the exchange silently.

“Not… everything. Nobody’s… perfect.” There. That was it. All debts paid in full. Good timing as well, because the world went dark and she was left alone in that darkness. She knew her eyes were open, but she was blind. She turned her eyes to where she suspected Liara would be.

She couldn’t move her arms.  
One more breath, come on.  
“No… more… running…” she exhaled, closing her eyes.

One more breath. She heard someone shouting and squeezing her. What more did they want from her? She gave everything. She was _so_ tired.

It was time to rest.


	6. Fourteen Seconds of Silence

Ever since Miranda Lawson broke up with him, things went steadily downhill for John Shepard. 

Never mind the fact that her argument made no sense, saying it was a fling, a fucking itch to scratch and she didn’t share his feelings. It was immature coming from a woman with Miranda’s qualities. He could have gotten over that. Then being a bitch to Liara, those nude photos she left in the mess hall–crazy, but he could explain that. But Jack–he lost it there. He couldn’t have believed it if someone told him, that this would happen, and it hit him hard.

He didn’t even know when she left the Normandy, missing the last chance to get an explanation from her. The lack of a reason was driving him crazy. And yet, she was the best XO he worked with and her suggestions about EDI were invaluable. It was a miserable trip back to Earth.

Then came the bullshit he had to endure from the Alliance brass for all the Cerberus dealings, and the genocide charges. He took the bullet for the team, to protect Hackett’s ass, but after that, his smile was not honest with the old man, who basically hung him out to dry. Six month of idleness almost drove him crazy. The red tape, the scapegoating, Miranda, it all seethed inside him constantly.

After the shock of the invasion and the escape, he was ready to vent it out on Ashley, getting into a shouting match with her on Mars. The woman was impossibly stubborn, although he suspected that in her place, he would have been suspicious, too. Fortunately, she was too stubborn to die when that cyborg bitch slammed her into the shuttle. She was one of his oldest friends still alive, and they’ve seen so much together. He would have hated to see her die, and he was genuinely proud when they finally made her a Spectre, two years too late.

It was another shouting match with Jack when they pulled her and her students out of Grissom. It was an even argument, since Jack was not really to blame for what happened with her and Miranda, but then they disagreed on how best to use her students in the war. 

He just couldn’t get Miranda out of his head. Liara was there to comfort him as much as her awkward, geeky nature allowed, but he wasn’t really looking for that kind of company. When they got to Sur’kesh, he was already a bit of a bully, hurling threats at the salarians until Wrex and him pulled the krogan female out.

That was when things really started to go pear-shaped. When he received Miranda’s call through the Spectre terminal, of all channels, he was ready to burst. Ashley was still in critical condition, he had turians, salarians and krogans to juggle, and then suddenly Miranda pops up out of nowhere, after six months of hiding. He went to meet her simply to chew her out and tell her off.

It didn’t exactly go as planned. He had to admit, that he lost his head. Very badly. He felt the red mist descending on his mind as she talked about her sister. He considered himself observant and empathic, and it helped him through most of his career, but the recent events frayed his nerves, making him more jumpy and confrontational. It was a different Shepard. And that Shepard chose the worst moment to emerge fully, when the sight of Miranda Lawson, timid, dialed down a few notches, slightly vulnerable, blabbering about her sister, made him snap. There was just something in the concept of that gorgeous, smart woman showing a softer side that made him want to break her in two. It was irrational, primal. There was a time when that sight would have made him hold her in his arms and protect her from the whole world.

Instead he raped her. There was no putting it any other way. He tore off her clothes, pinned her down and fucked her sore, and it felt so good. Her body was heavenly, and her struggles made her so firm, so tight. He saw it all in her eyes, the pain and the shock, unable to speak… It burned into his mind. He was disgusted with himself after that. 

Ever since his last meeting with Miranda Lawson, people started dying around him.

The first one to fall was Mordin, sacrificing himself for the cure, a very good friend that he was devastated to lose. He cut the line with the dalatrass when she started explaining the sabotage, having pretty much enough of the frogs by that time. Mordin was the exception. Shepard made the call that he needed the army that defeated the rachni, and not the uncertain support of a self-absorbed race. He couldn’t trust them not to bail out when the going got rough. 

When he remained one on one with Wrex, he also made it abundantly clear, that if Wrex could not hold the krogan expansion at bay if they win the war, he would personally come back and finish what the salarians started. Wrex laughed heartily at that, but he knew that Shepard was not bluffing. His respect only grew towards Shepard after their talk.

Losing Thane was hard, but it was a good fight. He was dying anyway, and he at least got to go out in style. But then he had Ashley at gunpoint, and after yet another shouting match, he had to pull the trigger. Against one of his own! He had the common sense to shoot to stun, hitting her right arm so she couldn’t pull the trigger. She dropped her gun and Garrus dropped Udina like a sack of potatoes. Things became tense between Shepard and Ashley after that. Her argument made some sense from her perspective, since she didn’t know what Shepard knew. Shepard’s argument was that he didn’t have time for taking her shit.

In the end, they reconciled, but he knew he lost a friend. He kept a very good marine and a capable Spectre, and they could count on each other, but things were never going to be the same between them. He even offered her an advice, “Take no shit from anybody, Ash. You are a Spectre now, you call the shots.”

It would have been pointless for her to join the Normandy crew anyway. In the end, Ashley went on to orchestrate the war effort on the human worlds, advising Anderson and Hackett, too. And by advising, it meant that she got to argue with Hackett if she wanted to. Shepard smirked at that thought. He would have loved to see Ashley shouting the old man’s head off.

His recurring nightmares at that point either included the world burning or Miranda begging for mercy under him. He was slowly starting to lose his mind.

So when the quarians refused to fall back and stop the attack against the geth over Rannoch, he yelled at the admirals like a drill sergeant, throwing threats at them. It wasn’t enough. The quarians were overconfident, so he had no qualms about letting Legion upload the code. He had no empathy left for a civilization that was this arrogant three centuries after they got their asses kicked. A disciplined, well equipped and well organized geth army was much more useful for him, than the quarians, who would have been busy worrying about their reclaimed homeworld.

What he didn’t expect, though, was Tali’s reaction. Her suicide caught him completely off-guard. It disturbed him to no end; losing friends in battle was one thing, Mordin’s sacrifice noble, but Tali– poor girl. She witnessed the end of her civilization. His nightmares returned with a vengeance.

At Thessia, he tried to be sympathetic towards the asari, but their little secret revealed almost made him rip the tendrils off the asari councilor’ head and beat her to death with it. Liara’s whining didn’t help. After Earth and Rannoch, he could not feel the pain any more.

However, he did feel the pain of his ass handed to him by Kai Leng at the temple, taking off with the prothean VI. It was the last straw. He lost his patience, demanding a solution to find Cerberus and finally put an end to their interference.

What happened on Horizon, though, shook him to the core. The whole genetic experimentation was atrocious, something that humanity haven’t seen for centuries, and were a throwback to their darkest times. He went in with full force, Vega and Garrus on his side, EDI hacking through the digital defences, Liara clearing the way with her biotics. They cut through the facility with an unstoppable momentum.

And then it all came crashing down. When he first heard Miranda’s warning, his heart skipped a beat. He tried not to think about what happened to her after the Citadel. He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through, but running into her there was unexpected. Of course, Henry Lawson’s presence made it all clear, but apparently Miranda, while searching for her sister, still took the effort to not only send out a warning, but to leave enough evidence for anybody who followed her trail to know exactly what was waiting for them at the end of the road.

She neatly paved their way to the comm center, and he got hopeful that this could mean resolving more than one of their problems when they finally meet. When he saw Kai Leng attack her, and the feed cut off, a cold dread gripped his heart. As Vega remarked, she had no way of knowing Kai Leng was here. She was not prepared for that.

They rushed into the control room and his worst fear played out in front of his eyes. His heart sank when he saw Miranda bleeding on the floor. He was determined to kill Henry Lawson no matter what, but Miranda beat him to it, in style. And then, he had to watch her die slowly, right in front of his eyes and he could do nothing about it. The others rushed to get medi-gel and they radioed for Chakwas, but he saw it was too late already. She already gave up in her head.

And then, to his utter shock, when he reached for her to provide some comfort, she pulled away in fear. It made him realize how bad he screwed up, when even in her death, she was afraid of him. He felt a squeeze in his throat, unable to say the things he wanted to say, unable to say sorry, and after her reaction, he couldn’t have expected her to say anything.

But even then, Miranda Lawson was able to deliver the final punch and produce the tracer, giving him the single most important bit of information that he needed at that time. The shame of it was almost unbearable. Her last words were not meant to hurt, but for him, they cut to the bone.

Oriana was inconsolable, sobbing over her sister’s body, who gave everything for her to have a normal life. It was a terrible loss and a heavy burden.

He told Garrus to switch off the scrambler and they fell back to the ship to the voice of Miranda Lawson warning everyone about Sanctuary, going on an infinite loop. He carried her body in his arms the whole way. Everybody was dead silent. 

They docked Miranda’s ship with the Normandy and they gave Oriana a lift until they arranged her to join the Crucible project. She took her sister’s body with her and left on that battered scout ship, while the Normandy returned to the Citadel to refuel, restock and rearm before hitting the Cerberus headquarters with the everything they had.

Shepard had a few hours to kill on the Citadel until the Normandy was ready. His mood was so foul by that time, that he needed to get away from the ship. Liara also felt that Horizon shook him up and she tried her best to provide silent comfort. He went to the flat that Anderson provided him, to have somewhere where he could unwind. Liara was supposed to meet him there after she talked to her Shadow Broker contacts and get the latest batch of news from her network.

He felt sore, exhausted to the bone, numb. He stepped out of the elevator and barely took a few steps towards his building on the plaza, when somebody bumped into him hard. He didn’t even notice it, which was bad enough, but he was so tired, he couldn’t be bothered to worry about his vulnerability.

“Hey! Watch it!” he hissed, rubbing his ribs where he was hit, grimacing painfully. His eyes went wide, when he realized who it was. 

“Kasumi!” he called after her with genuine relief.  
“Hello, Commander,” the thief replied in a teasing tone, not even stopping as she strolled towards the elevator. “Fancy bumping into you here.”

Still rubbing his ribs he turned towards her.  
“I’m glad you’re still alive and kicking,” he chuckled nervously. “What brings you here?”  
Kasumi stepped into the elevator, turned neatly on her heels and looked at Shepard from under her hood.

“Oh, just doing a favour for a friend,” she replied nonchalantly, but her eyes remained cold.   
“Wait– It’s been so long. Where have you been?”  
Kasumi shrugged.  
“Here and there. Terminals to hack. Things to steal.” She reached for the keypad. Then cheerfully added, “Got a ship to catch. Good luck saving the world.”

And then the door closed, the thief glaring at him, while he stood there, not really understanding what just happened.

He shook his head and walked to the flat still rubbing his side, confused. Kasumi sure had a sharp elbow. Then, as soon as he entered the apartment, he understood. There was a box on the coffee table, neatly wrapped and adorned with a plastic bow. There was a message waiting for him, a little icon blinking on the video wall. He picked up a bottle of drink from the fridge and went back to the room, sitting down on the couch, eyeing the box while he commanded the computer to play the message.

He wasn’t prepared for it, choking on his drink for a second. 

Miranda’s face appeared on the screen, eyes sunken and dark, hair unkempt. He could only see her shoulder, the dark strap of a tank top and behind her was a battered bulkhead, probably her ship. The whole image had a greenish hue, it was dark, underlit. She was like an apparition. According to the timecode running in the corner, the whole message was only forty seconds long, but as the numbers changed, she was still not speaking. In fact, she didn’t even look into the camera, just shuffled in her place, licking her lips absently, brushing her hair behind her ear with a nervous move, eyes darting left and right, her gaze distant.

Oh, he knew those gestures. He saw them on victims’ faces, when they freed slaves captured on Mindoir or saved civilians after a pirate raid. These were the tells of someone traumatized by abuse. The hand gestures, the inability to look into other people’s eyes, fidgeting, timidness, sullen demeanor… the whole works. And he knew that he did this to her. Miranda Lawson was broken, trying to say something to him on a pre-recorded message, and even then gathering the courage to speak at all. Seconds ticked on the timecode and only at fourteen seconds did she finally let out an exhausted sigh and looked into the camera. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Everything I did, I did it for my sister.” She took a shuddering breath, looking up into the camera again. A single teardrop rolled down from the corner of her eye. “I am sorry. Sorry for the pain I caused. Please—please make sure she is safe.”

He could see her lips pursing down and her face distorting, but the video cut off before more was revealed. That was it. Forty seconds, with fourteen seconds of silence. This was her goodbye message, probably recorded before she landed on Horizon.

Shepard stared at the blank screen with a bewildered gaze. After everything she went through, she was apologising. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no lengthy, emotional farewell, detailed explanation, confessing her feelings or condemning him, not even the classic “if you are watching this” monologue. In typical Miranda fashion, it was straightforward and short, without the tiniest bit of sentimentality. She just explained what she did.

Shepard slowly shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his palms. There was a lump in his throat, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth not to make a sound. What was this message? What did he learn from it?

He learned more from the first fourteen seconds, than from the rest. He commanded replay and played the video again, stopping it at fourteen seconds and playing it in a loop. Everything was there. The way she needed to gather her strength, the little gestures, the way her gaze darted around, the dullness of her once piercing blue eyes.

His gaze went to the box left on his coffee table. Kasumi’s gift. He frowned and tore it open, revealing a single datapad and a memory unit. He picked up the unit curiously, and slid it into the coffee table’s terminal panel. It started to play immediately.

_“Did you get what you wanted?”_ He heard Miranda’s voice, her tone cold and sullen.  
 _“A bit bristly, aren’t we?”_ Liara’s mocking tone. _“Cutting right to the chase, no pleasantries… Tsk, tsk… I heard everything. You did splendidly, Lawson. Did it exactly the way I wanted to. Broke poor John’s heart.”_

The room started to spin. He straightened up, holding onto the coffee table with one hand as he listened to the recording. Based on the rest of it, this was right after their break up.

He didn’t believe his ears. He stepped to the next audio file on the memory unit and hit play. It started generic enough, but it was soon evident from the conversation that they were looking at a video feed of Oriana, while Liara was talking about picking up the pieces. His expression darkened, when Liara started to explain her motives, but Miranda cut her off, like she heard it before. When Liara started to talk about respect, he was already feeling that sense of danger that told him something bad was about to happen.

_“—Get what?”_ Miranda was saying. _“I used to have respect for you. Not any more. All that knowledge you gained from the Shadow Broker corrupted you. Think about it, Liara! What would Shepard think if he saw this side of you?!”_

And he was wondering about that, too, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. It was hard to figure out, what was happening next, but once he realized, he jumped to his feet, staring at the coffee table like he has seen a ghost. He looked up at the video wall, still playing the loop that slowly etched itself into his mind.  
 _“Uh, I did what you told me, huhh, Liara! Just. Stop.”_

Shepard’s eyes widened, staring blankly at the video, while the scene started to play out on the audio recordings. Liara’s monologue on alien genitals was deeply disturbing, but not as much as the sounds of moans and groans after that.

He felt sick to the stomach, falling back onto the couch, clenching hands into fists. He wanted to scream “pause”, but he had to hear all of it. He deserved the torture. He heard their exchange at the end, Liara promising what she would do to Oriana and Miranda agreeing to everything.

He stepped to the next one in the panel with trembling hands. It was their talk after the pictures were found. He winced. The next after that was a recording of Miranda talking with Jack. He stopped playing that after the noises started. He flipped to number five: he heard himself demoting Miranda. He hit next.

Number six. Liara again, talking to Miranda about closure, wanting Miranda to disappear, and an unnerving monologue about human hair, and then those sounds of struggle again. He could only guess what was happening and he tried very hard not to imagine it. Some voices were talking about clients and fresh meat.

Number seven. Miranda and Kasumi, talking to an asari, probably. A very enlightening talk that wrenched his heart. 

_“Then I was wrong about him. Then he wouldn’t be worth fighting for.”_  
Shepard snorted in disgust, looking at the video wall. Now he knew he didn’t deserve her.

He eventually got to the file he dreaded the most. Yes, there was a recording of that, too. Miranda’s desperate voice, first asking for help and then just whimpers and gasp of fear and pain. It went on after that and he willed himself to listen to it until the end, until the sobbing started. All he could do was to stop the recording.

* * *

When Liara stepped in, he was still sitting on the couch, the video wall was playing the loop and he was reading the datapad. When she saw Miranda’s image on the wall, Liara reeled back in surprise, her step faltering just for a second before regaining her composure.

Shepard looked up and saw Liara’s expression change into a soft and sympathetic stare, while her eyes darted to the datapad in his hands.

“Oh. She left you a message?” she asked softly.  
“Yes, that she did,” Shepard said, stopping the loop and let the message play to the end, freezing at the last frame.  
Liara winced, and to her credit, a guilty expression flashed through her features while it played. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” she said reflexively, but inside she felt relieved that it didn’t say more.

“In fact, she left me several more messages, Liara. Do you want to hear them?”   
Shepard looked at her with a searching gaze.  
“Oh, no,” she shook her head politely. “It is between you and her. I wouldn’t want to—”

“Oh, but they are for you as well. Let me show you my favourites.”Shepard slammed the datapad down on the table, making Liara jump. Shepard activated his omnitool.  
“It’s really not necessary.” 

Her own voice replied to her from the speakers.  
 _“The least you could do is show your gratitude for not harming your sister.”_

Liara winced. She tried to keep her composure.  
“How about this?” Shepard went on.  
 _“Imagine how it would feel like if there were more of them… Imagine how it would feel for Oriana.”_

Liara frowned, pulling herself straight, trying very hard to control herself.

_“I hope you appreciate it. I could have done worse things to you. Cut your pretty face, for example. My predecessor would have had you killed. Or hand you over to Cerberus. Be grateful that I stopped here.”_

Shepard stopped the playback, lowering his hands. He turned his back on Liara and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a fresh bottle from the freezer. Liara stayed where she was, putting on her best defensive glare, the guilt vanishing, replaced by a cold, slightly indignant expression.

“You’ve got to hand it to Miranda,” he called back from the kitchen loudly. “She outsmarted the Shadow Broker.”

He opened the bottle, slammed the freezer door shut and slowly strolled back to the living room while he spoke.  
“She recorded everything. I suppose there was a first talk, I’m guessing soon after we took the yahg down, right? When you broke her the news. She wasn’t prepared for that one.”

Liara didn’t reply, didn’t move, concentrating on keeping herself together, back straight, the statue of self-righteousness.

“Actually, she only recorded the first two of these. Someone else did the rest.” Shepard smiled bitterly, tapping the datapad with the bottom of the bottle. He started to slowly circle around in the living room, his gestures wide, wobbling a little bit. He was still sober, but he was working on it.

“You see, she left her access codes, clearances and the frequencies to her gadgets lying around where anybody could find it, who knew where to look. Say, a thief.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, Miranda, she would never make such a mistake. And Kasumi, bless her soul, knew what to do with them.” 

Shepard stopped right in front of Liara, downing the rest of his drink.  
“She had someone spy on her, Liara, so you would not get suspicious.” he picked up the plastic bow from the table and showed it to Liara with a grin. “They even put it all together in a neat, tidy package. With a bow.”

He threw the plastic bow at Liara, who winced, dodging away by reflex. He gave her a murderous glare and turned away.

“What do you want me to say?” Liara asked coldly. She was not happy for getting busted, sure, but it was more like embarrassment, rather than guilt.

Shepard spun around and glared at her incredulously.  
“What do I want you to say?!” He snarled, grabbing the bottle and with a half spin, he threw it into the video wall. The glass cracked, the bottle shattered to pieces but the picture still stayed frozen on the broken display.

Liara shuddered, her calm slowly evaporating, and her defiance was quickly giving way to fear. What she did was not right, sure, but she didn’t kill Miranda…

Shepard squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his hands up, fingers bent like claws, trying to calm down and figuring out where to start. He exhaled sharply and looked at Liara.  
“Liara. You raped her.”  
“So did you!” she retorted sullenly, but not as aggressively as she planned. His anger, and hearing those words said out loud made her uncertain. “Did you listen to that as well? How she cried after that?”

Shepard bowed his head and scoffed, nodding to himself.  
“You spied on me.”  
“Of course I did. I am the Shadow Broker. I know everything!” Liara snapped back indignantly.

Shepard lifted his gaze at her.  
“And yet, you know so little,” he said quietly.  
“Don’t treat me like a child!”  
Shepard shook his head slowly and spoke softly, “Then stop acting like one.”  
“Whatever. Do you think she would have forgiven you after what you did to her?”

Liara held his gaze, standing her ground, teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown and a fit of rage. She was waiting for him to say something, watching every tremble he made, trying to guess what he would do.

But he just kept staring at her, the anger fading in his eyes. Sorrow followed, his eyes fogging up. His expression softened and finally he cupped Liara’s cheeks with both hands. Liara shuddered, blinking in surprise, almost melting into the touch, her hands fluttering up to touch his hands. Oh, how she longed for his touch!

It was not what she was expecting, though. It confused her even more, as she felt herself choking up, the same feeling gnawing at her that she felt watching Thessia burn. It may have been sorrow.

“Liara,” Shepard whispered, rubbing her cheek with his thumbs. It felt good, but she also felt being trapped. “We stood on the Broker’s ship, in that big hall, remember? You swore to me, that you will not abuse your position. Do you remember that?”

Liara blinked a few times. She remembered it well, showing him around proudly and excitedly.  
“I also said I will help you find a way to combat the Reapers. I did that, didn’t I?” she replied, her voice getting higher as she spoke, her confidence waning.

She had a terrible feeling that he was going to leave her for this.

Shepard nodded slowly, his hands sliding down to her shoulders. It was a bit of a relief, she felt less threatened by him.  
“Then why did you do this? Why do this to Miranda, Liara?” he asked. Liara realised he wasn’t patronizing her. He was desperate. Desperate to understand her reasons.  
“I-I wanted you back,” she whispered. It sounded so wrong when she said it out loud. “I missed you and I wanted you back.”

Shepard bowed his head again, his shoulders shaking from the nervous laughter.  
“It doesn’t work like that, Liara.” His hands slid down to her hands. He took her by the wrist and they sat down slowly on the couch, Liara letting him lead her. It was all so very confusing.   
“What have we done?” Shepard whispered, rubbing her hands.  
“We? We didn’t kill her. It was Kai Leng!” she protested, hoping that he would see it her way, but he just shook his head.

“You still don’t understand it, do you? We killed her, Liara. You sentenced her to death and I condemned her. She was long dead by the time Kai Leng got to her. He was only the executioner.”

The more he talked and the more she listened, the more it started to sound like he had a point. It was still just a faint notion in the back of her mind, but as much as she hated to admit it, Shepard may have been right.

“I want you to think about this, Liara. I want you to think about how much you made her hurt me.” Liara’s eyes widened, catching his gaze. His eyes were strict and cold, but not mad. He continued relentlessly. “I want you to think about how much you hurt her. No, not just her body. Can you do this for me, Liara? Can you close your eyes and think about the pain? Can you try and imagine the loneliness? Can you imagine what was taken from her?” He paused to exhale slowly. “Can you imagine how different things would be?”

Liara took a shuddering breath, her eyes closing slowly. Yes, she could imagine the loneliness, all right. She remembered how she missed him. And she remembered how she wanted to have him back when he returned, but now it didn’t feel the same. It didn’t feel like the right thing any more. 

She imagined how Miranda gave two years of her life to bring him back and how he gave her a chance at happiness. “The perfect Miss Lawson,” as she herself called her. She remembered how it felt when Shepard died on the Normandy, how she lost him and she imagined how it must have felt for Miranda to lose him, and to lose him knowing he was mad at her. To lose everything. To endure everything for her sister. It was unbearable.

She opened her eyes and looked at him desperately, tears fogging her vision.  
“Oh, John,” she sobbed, unable to stop the tears. “I am so, so terribly sorry!”

Shepard held her gaze, but didn’t say anything. He let it sink in.  
“What-what can I do to fix this? I want to fix this!” she said, blinking away the tears. She could not bear the thought of losing him.

“You can’t fix this, Liara. You can’t bring her back.”  
“I know! I know that!” she cried. “But there must be another way– I don’t– I can’t lose you.”

He just shook his head sadly.  
“It doesn’t work like that, Liara.”

Now she was even more desperate. She actually felt him slipping away from her, drifting out of her reach, forever. She grabbed his wrists, shaking her head, close to panic.  
“No, no, no… I’ll do anything! Anything you want! Please! Just don’t leave me!”

Shepard closed his eyes, peeling her hands off his wrists.  
“Liara. Listen. Listen to me.” He said in a soothing voice. “It doesn’t work like this. Even if I could forgive you, I will never forgive myself. She did not forgive me either. This is a burden we will have to carry for the rest of our lives.”

Liara shook her head wildly, tears streaking again, trying to hold on to him, but this time it was Shepard, who took her wrist to hold her down. She fought desperately, trying to wrap her arms around him. Just to feel him next to her. He kept whispering her name until she calmed down.

“Listen to me now.” He smiled sadly. He gave a similar ultimatum to Miranda after their break up. “You have the luxury that Miranda didn’t have. That I am not angry and I have all the facts.”

Liara squirmed, her heart beating faster. He sounded so ominous, so final.

“I am not sending you away now. I need your knowledge and I need the resources of the Shadow Broker to win this damn war. You can come with us on the Normandy. But after this war is over, one way or another, we go our separate ways, Liara.” Shepard sighed. “What you did… it was horrible, Liara. You abused your power and now none of us will get what we want.”

Liara nodded quickly, accepting his terms, still weeping. At least she could stay on the Normandy with him.

“I am not a bad person, John. I don’t want to be a bad person. You know me. You know that.” 

There was still a tiny bit of hope. Maybe she can make it up to him, if she tries hard enough. It was not much, but at least she gets to spend a little more time with him. That’s more than Miranda had. The mere thought made her cringe in pain. She looked at the broken screen, still showing the last frozen frame of Miranda, her expression caught in the moment right before despair.

“I used to know you, Liara, but you have changed.”  
Liara shook her head.  
“I don’t want to change!”

“I am afraid it is too late for that. We all changed.” Shepard said quietly. “This will stay between us, but I need you to leave now, Liara. I want to be alone. I will be back on the Normandy one hour before takeoff, okay?”

Liara nodded, sniffling, that treacherous fear still gripping her heart. She knew she lost him, but at least she can be close to him for a little while. As she stood up, gathering her strength, wiping away his tears, Shepard leaned back in the couch, closing his eyes and pressing his fist against his forehead with a sigh.

She left without a word and he didn’t even open his eyes to look after her.

* * * * *

They hit Chronos Station with everything they had. A whole fleet jumped in and peppered their defenses, while the Normandy slipped in, dropped the team off and joined the fray.

On the station Shepard was done playing nice. They had a solid plan, and they were not taking hostages. Everybody was there, Garrus and Vega providing the firepower, EDI and Liara the support. Shepard took great satisfaction in slamming several fighters into the hangar doors and beyond. Liara’s biotics were sweeping before them, crushing armor, spine, doors, everything. EDI hacked the rest, venting whole sections into space to clear a path to the core of the station.

They stopped briefly before the last door, went over their strategy, cooled down, recharged and blasted in. When the hologram of the Illusive Man popped up, he simply shot the comm. He was done talking to psychopaths. They reached the prothean VI just in time before Kai Leng made an entrance.

They formed a defensive circle around EDI and Liara in the middle of the room. As Leng and his thugs started to step closer, Shepard lifted his gun.  
“Now!” he said.

Liara threw up a protective aura around them and EDI fired her gun. The modified shotgun sent out an EMP blast, the blast taking out everybody but Kai Leng. He collapsed to the ground, too, but he managed to crawl back onto his hands and knees. The rest were not.  
“Fire,” Shepard said calmly and they let it rip. 

Kai Leng didn’t stand a chance, his shield destroyed within seconds, his armor soaking up as much damage as possible before he was down on the floor again. Shepard signalled to hold fire, and he strolled to the groaning assassin in the middle of the room. He leaned closer, looking into his face.

“You didn’t think I was going to play your childish game, did you?” He sneered, kicking Kai Leng in the stomach. “Get up, N7, don’t be a pussy! Show me what you got!” He roared at him, delivering another kick. 

“Look at you! Full machine, not half the man! Get up, you fuck!”

Kai Leng staggered to his feet, wobbling heavily, his shielded limbs working erratically, swiping blindly around with his hands. The EMP blast fried half of his electronics, but he could still move around. Shepard continued in his drill sergeant voice.  
“What a, piss-poor excuse for an N7! Playing with swords like a little boy!” He gave Kai Leng a hard shove on the shoulder.

The assassin stumbled backwards, bouncing off from the Illusive Man’s desk and stabbed with his short sword towards where he thought Shepard would be. He wasn’t there. He was behind him and his omni-blade pierced through his back, emerging from his stomach. Kai Leng gurgled, spitting blood.  
“This is for Miranda, you son of a bitch,” he hissed, yanking the blade free and watched the assassin fall to his knees. Shepard shoved his foot into his back and turned away, disgusted. The others stood and stared at him wordlessly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“EDI, radio Joker. Let’s grab what we came for and get the hell out of here.”


	7. The High Costs of Perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended soundtrack for this part: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ur8j4xWe_44

This is how the Legend of John Shepard goes.  
When the Citadel suddenly appeared in the Sol System and moved to Earth on a geosynchronous orbit just above London, everybody thought all was lost. 

When fleets from all over the galaxy started appearing, hope sprung anew. While the battle raged on in the heavens, troops landed around the world, focusing on London, gathering for a great assault to reach the beam and take it up to the Citadel, open it somehow and join it with the Crucible. It was an impossible task, quite fitting for the great Commander Shepard.

The battle was as fierce on the ground as it was out in space. Every yard gained required huge sacrifices, with little periods of calm between assaults. Jack was there with her students. Wrex and his army, Grunt leading his battalion, and asari commandos, too. Turian gunships provided air support. It was a battle of legends.

A handful reached the beam, Shepard and James Vega amongst them, and they made their way to the center of the Presidium on the twisted, dark corridors of the Citadel. All was eerily quiet, if there were any survivors left, they couldn’t tell.

They say only Shepard and Vega made it into the heart of the madness, and they somehow managed to open the Citadel’s arms. This was the signal for the fleet to call in the Crucible and protect it until it docked. 

The Normandy hovered nearby, leading the fighter squads. Garrus Vakarian was the master of the fleet movements, drawing the Reaper’s attention, and Ashley Williams was commanding the escort fleet that jumped in with the Crucible. They made a great team, the three of them in the sky, and secured the area until the two constructs docked.

Everybody waited. The Citadel started to move, turn towards the Arcturus Relay like a gigantic satellite dish.

That was when Commander Shepard pulled out his copy of the Reaper Source Code, which, according to the rumour, was given to him by the ancient race of leviathans that created the Reapers eons ago.

Commander Shepard plugged in the Source Code, the final piece of the Crucible puzzle. The Crucible started to vibrate and radiate an intense, white light, stronger and stronger. Escape pods were fleeing the structure, the engineers and pilots who drove the construct to the Citadel. And then the Citadel fired, like an enormous ray gun. The beam hit the relay and a galactic chain reaction began. Every relay hit sent out the signal, shutting off everything that was Reaper-related in its vicinity. The shockwave, they say, would take many years to reach every corner of the galaxy. At some clusters, the war would rage on for a while. And each relay it hit, shut down. They simply went dark, their core stopped spinning and the mass effect fields contained within slowly dissipated.

The Citadel tower exploded, taking with it the Crucible, but leaving the rest of the Citadel mostly intact. The war was over. The costs were high during the week long battle. The geth were gone. Their ships drifted lifelessly in space, along with the Reapers. The Normandy crash landed on Mars, almost uncontrollable after EDI went offline forever, but most of the crew survived without a scratch, a testament to Joker’s last great flight.

The remnants of the greatest fleet in the galaxy still filled the space around Earth, and the Citadel, as it was, became a permanent fixture in the Sol System.

Garrus Vakarian took most of the turian fleet and started their odyssey back to Palaven, jumping from system to system with their FTL drives. The krogan and asari did the same, but all three races left behind those who could not make the journey either because their ships were not designed for that, or there was no place and supply left for them on the ships that could, or simply wanted to stay and help rebuild Earth and the Citadel, and represent their species in this new era. The Sol System became the New Citadel Space.

It was decided, since nobody had any idea how to propel the superstructure on its own, that the Citadel would be towed beyond the orbit of Jupiter, since around Earth’s orbit its mass caused constant earthquakes and tidal waves. The journey until the Citadel reached its new place would take years to complete.

The galaxy was changing. It would take years to re-establish communication with every colony, if it was possible at all. Travel was problematic. Powers were shifting, and nobody knew, how the new galaxy will look like.

Ashley Williams became the most powerful Spectre in history, an unofficial sheriff of New Citadel Space. Although she kept herself out of politics as much as possible, nobody dared to argue with her. They say, that Garrus Vakarian became her counterpart in turian space and they kept close counsel throughout the years. Some even say it was more than camaraderie.

John Shepard was gone, blown away with the Crucible. James Vega made it out alone to tell the tale, but he didn’t add much to the official story. Vega eventually completed the N7 program.

Jack and most of her students survived the battle on Earth, their losses painful but not devastating. The biotic occasionally took on a class or two on Earth, but mostly, she remained out of the spotlight.

Miranda Lawson’s name was never mentioned in the history of the Reaper War— Except in one corner of the galaxy, on Horizon, where survivors on the planet and refugees who got there before the relays went down will always remember her clear, measured voice warning them about Sanctuary. It would take years until they would find out, who this woman really was. 

By that time, Horizon was shaping up to become a prosperous colony with a dominantly human population, a peaceful island after all the destruction. Eventually, after some convincing, local-born Samantha Traynor accepted her assignment as the Governor of Horizon, and travelled there, bringing with her donations to help the reconstruction. 

Honorary chairman Oriana Lawson gave a touching speech, via a video message, during the inauguration of the University of Horizon named after her sister. She talked about Miranda’s sacrifice, the regret for their father’s actions and expressing hope that Horizon could become a real sanctuary for everyone. She donated all of Henry Lawson’s assets on Horizon to fund the university.

The great prothean scholar, John Shepard’s invaluable companion and advisor Liara T’Soni was never heard from again.

* * * * *

A few days after the Crucible fired, Liara was sitting in the middle of Shepard’s cabin, his belongings scattered around her, the whole room in disarray. She was hysterical, sobbing and cursing and throwing stuff around, upturning everything, although she knew for a while now, that it was pointless. He was gone and she had nothing. She was _so_ alone, it was tearing her apart.

She sat through the battle in the Normandy’s comm room, doing her best to be useful, coordinating the asari fleet with the Alliance command, and any ships she could gather as the Shadow Broker, mostly mercenaries. She was trying very hard to make it up to Shepard for her mistakes. She still had trouble feeling shame for what she did, but as time passed and she had to watch Shepard slip away from her, first in soul, then in body, she began to understand.

She was heartbroken after the Crucible fired and it became obvious that Shepard was dead. For good, this time. When they picked up Vega’s escape pod, he said, Shepard stayed behind to make sure it was not all in vain.

Liara couldn’t stop crying for a long time, as the realization slowly sunk in, that he died probably still hating her. It was much, much worse than last time. Not only she didn’t get to say goodbye, but she also didn’t get deliverance. It was eating away at her soul, sending her into fits of crying.

Before the battle, she was still optimistic. While half the galaxy were recording farewell messages or simply talking to loved ones, she put on her best looks and recorded her own. She smiled pleasantly, honestly and started her message with “John, my love.” She wanted him to know, in case she didn’t make it, that he was always in her heart and she wished that he would find it in his heart to remember her with fondness. She filed away the message and then waited, sitting on her couch, hands in her lap, hoping that Shepard might come by.

As time passed and he didn’t show up, she decided to visit him herself, even if it looked desperate. Anything was better than sitting alone in her room on the last night before the end of the world. She didn’t make it. Neither EDI, nor the guards let her through, on the order of Shepard, who did not wish to be disturbed by anyone.

Liara returned to her quarters, sat back on the couch, into exactly the same position, in her best dress, brushing off invisible specks and straightening tiny wrinkles on her skirt and she wept.

She barely kept it together during the battle, not missing a beat, staying sharp, but it took her a great effort. She was exhausted afterwards, emotionally drained to the point of distraction. Everybody respected her grief, giving her some privacy and consolation, but that didn’t help her. She lost him once already, and there were things unsaid at that time, too, but this was much worse. She could deal with his death, but she could not deal with his resentment.

And that, finally made her understand what Miranda went through after breaking up with Shepard and what Shepard must have gone through after Miranda died. She realized now, that he had to live knowing, that Miranda didn’t forgive him. She saw it, she was there: Miranda pulled away from him, and even in her farewell message, she remained detached. It was a terrible feeling, seeing your love hate you. Hate you for someone you did to them.

She had to laugh at that, bitterly. So this was what Shepard was talking about, when he said, they have to live with that. And even if one of them would forgive the other, would they be able to forgive themselves? Except for Miranda, of course. She had no choice.

Liara let out a frustrated moan. This was maddening. She had to do something. Maybe he left her a message in his cabin, a sign, something that would tell her how to go on.

She was a bit dizzy and she had no idea how much time has passed, since she hasn’t eaten or slept ever since the battle. A lot of survivors were idling about in shock and grief, so it wasn’t unusual to see people shuffling like zombies on half-empty corridors on Mars Base. She fit right in without any effort as she snuck back onto the battered wreck of the Normandy, docked at the war-torn spaceport, hacking her way into his cabin, searching for a sign. There was none. She sat there, amongst the ruins of their lives and cried in frustration and sorrow.

She had no idea how much time has passed. She was weak, exhausted to the bone, hungry and thirsty, but she had no desire to eat. Her stomach was a tight knot, it probably wouldn’t be able to hold anything in. She was reaching a dreamy, semi-conscious state where time and gravity was fluid, and even her limbs felt funny.

The door to Shepard’s cabin slid open. Liara’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened.

It was Miranda Lawson, in the flesh, stepping through the doorway, Jack behind her, fists glowing blue, ready to blast off her biotics.

“Hello, Liara,” the apparition said.  
“Miranda!” Liara shouted in surprise, her heart beating faster. She staggered to her feet with eyes locked on her. Relief flooded her, inexplicably, a tired smile on her features, as she clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “You are alive! Thank the Goddess!”

Miranda did not speak, just shot her a cold glance as she strolled in, Jack’s stance softening, looking at Liara with narrowed eyes. Liara stood in one place and watched meekly as Miranda walked about the room, touching things, like she owned the place.

“I made a bit of a mess,” Liara explained softly and lowered her gaze. “I was looking for something. A-a message. But he didn’t leave me anything.”

“How long have you been here, Liara?” Jack asked. She sounded like a doctor.  
Liara looked at her dreamily, the polite smile not fading on her face, blinking out the tears from her eyes.  
“Hours, maybe. I am not sure. But nothing is here. I checked.” She explained helpfully, looking towards Miranda, who picked up a few items before putting them back in place. “I am so glad you are alive.”

Miranda looked at her.  
“I am not.” She said simply, continuing her exploration of Shepard’s cabin.

Liara recoiled, her eyes darting left and right as she tried to gather her wits and find an explanation.  
“I am hallucinating. I haven’t been sleeping much. Haven’t slept any, to be honest.” She mused in a soft voice and stared blankly at the floor. “You must be projections of my subconscious.”

Liara looked at the ghost, her eyes watering again.  
“I am so sorry for what I have done,” she whispered, swallowing. “I-I don’t suppose you c-can forgive me, right?”

Miranda shuffled through the desk, finding a picture of herself in the mess. She glanced up at Liara and that stare was answer enough. Her heart sank, her shoulders sagging. She knew that this would be the answer, but it still hurt.

Jack scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, leaning against the doorway. As much as Liara could tell, she was watching her with pity, and Miranda with something akin to sorrow.

“I let you down. All of you,” Liara whispered, looking around, finding Jack with her gaze. She faintly wondered why she was seeing her, too. Maybe because there was something growing between the two biotics, after her little machinations? She could not be sure. “I broke everything and I cannot repair it. Not even as—” she could not finish. 

What did all this power brought her? What did she gain by defeating the Shadow Broker and taking its place? She took a deep, shuddering breath, hands still clasped nervously across her chest, and stared into space. She have reached a conclusion and she was ready for her sentence.

“What have I become? Everyone is gone. And I am still here.” She looked up at Miranda hopelessly, crying again.

Miranda slowly stepped closer, her face cold, her eyes stern. She felt Jack walking up to her, too and put a warm hand on her shoulder.

“My sister is dead, Liara. She may have brought Shepard back, but nobody will bring her back to life.”  
“Oriana!” Liara whispered, strength leaving her suddenly. Jack had to catch her so she wouldn’t collapse. The rest of her world crumbled. She could not face Oriana Lawson. Not right now. Not for a while. She bowed her head down, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed, while Jack kept her upright, grumbling. “Take me away from here… Can you take me away, please?”

“We will, Liara. We will take over from here.” Oriana said quietly.

* * * * *

The shuttle landed in the scorching desert heat at Alice Springs Airport, claimed by the Alliance during the invasion as a support base. Wounded were transferred here, airstrikes were launched, but it quickly ran out of supplies. Although Reaper forces caused minimal damage to the town, it was still in disarray. Refugees were trying to get back to their homes, cargo shuttles were buzzing back and forth.

Oriana arranged the trip, hitching a ride on an Alliance supply run for herself, Jack and Liara. As soon as they stepped out, the shuttle drifted off towards the staging area. They walked up to a hospital van waiting for them at the entrance. Liara obediently let herself be seated in the back while Jack arranged the paperwork with the hospital staff.  
“We will take good care of her,” one attendant assured them as he looked back at the asari over the shoulder. “She won’t be the first alien we are treating there. Our social care home is a pleasant and very quiet place.”

Oriana nodded, watching Liara as she sat, with a distant look in her eyes. She almost felt sorry for her. She had to admit, that she did feel empathic, just like she would for anyone who lost everything like Liara did, unable to move on, and suffered a nervous breakdown.

“We are experiencing a large influx of PTSD victims. Were it not for your generous donation, Ms. Lawson, we wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the flow, not to mention accommodate your friend—”  
“She is not my friend,” Oriana replied sullenly, making Jack lift her eyebrow at her curiously. She suppressed a chuckle.  
The attendant shot a glance at Liara, then back at Oriana.  
“I see. Well, in any case, everything is covered, and she will have everything she would need. You should come, visit sometimes.”

Oriana kept her gaze at Liara, who stared out the window.  
“I will.”  
“You will?” Jack asked in an amused tone.  
“Every year.” Oriana nodded.

This seemed to satisfy the social home worker. He smiled, shook their hands and sat in the back with Liara and they were off. As the van pulled away, Liara looked at Oriana and their eyes met. Oriana could afford to be generous, and return her gaze with some compassion and she saw the recognition, and a deep sorrow in the asari’s eyes. Then the van slipped into the traffic and was gone, leaving Jack and Oriana on the pavement.

“Well,” Jack sighed, stretching her arms above her head and enjoyed the shocked or curious stares of the people passing by. She grinned to herself. She still had the touch. “We’ve got a train to catch. We don’t want to miss it.”  
“No, we don’t,” Oriana replied in a contemplative tone, watching the traffic. Jack put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at it, followed the tattoos on the arm until she looked into the biotic’s eyes. She smiled softly and let Jack lead her down the street.   
“You know, kid, remind me not to get on your bad side.”  
“Why, because I put away the Shadow Broker into the middle of nowhere and took her place?”

Jack chuckled, putting an arm around Oriana’s shoulders like a big sister.  
“Jack.”  
“Yes?”  
“Will you help me?” She asked, and she sounded like a young girl, again. “Who says I have to do this all alone?”  
“You don’t have to. I’ll be right here with you.” She nudged her with her hip.

They walked in silence for a while, thinking about consequences, gazing at the shops and buildings and the people passing by. They reached the maglev station in silence. The legendary train, crossing the continent from North to South was already at the station, the traditional red and silver livery glinting in the sun, the loudspeaker calling for boarding towards Adelaide.

“You know, kid, for a moment back there, you started to sound just like her.” Jack mused, before stepping on the train, turning towards Oriana.  
“I am not a kid.”  
“See? There it is again.” Jack laughed.  
Oriana smiled softly.  
“I know I barely knew her, but I miss her so much.”  
“I know. It will get better, I promise.” She pulled her head closer and kissed her on the forehead. “Come on. The Ghan waits for no one.”

 

**E N D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits go to the original prompter of the idea and the discussion that led to this story.  
> The idea haunted me for days and couldn't let me sleep. It was the most uncomfortable story I have written so far. I hated it and pushed me out of my comfort zone almost every step of the way, so I was forced to write it to get it out of my head. I was miserable, but I am grateful for it. This was the best kind of challenge and I can only hope it works for others as well.  
> I would be happy to read your thoughts about this story.


End file.
